


The Red Land

by Persipnei



Series: night holds what day has lost [1]
Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Anachronisms, Ancient Egypt, Ancient Rome, Bland descriptions of sex, Includes Footnotes, M/M, Not Beta Read, Roman Slavery, Sad Ending, The English is not great, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 103,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21605659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persipnei/pseuds/Persipnei
Summary: “It's beyond me why Kawab would want to call you Deshret.” Ahkmenrah confessed after a few minutes of silence. “The Red Land is unforgiving. Confusing and ruthless. Set is the one in charge to rule it; we are nothing but pawns in his domain.” and therefore, victims at his mercy. The Vizier had to see something else other than his red hair in him to give him such name. But Sekhmet herself welcomed the Roman slave into their land; he was not a threat. He was not an agent of chaos. Leonellus would not bring despair or war to his land. Neither he would corrupt it with disgrace. “You are far from that.” while he didn't know Leonellus as much as he would want to, it was clear that there was no malice in him. No hunger for power, either.ORA tragic story about a Roman slave and a Pharaoh.
Relationships: Ahkmenrah/Original Character
Series: night holds what day has lost [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665646
Comments: 27
Kudos: 61





	1. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And that's the only reason, huh?” Galeatus smiled. “Right. I heard that the boy is gentle and kind. Loved by all. That there isn't a single living creature in that land who is not devoted to him. He's favoured by his parents and by his people. I also heard that he is loyal and generous. And that anyone who speaks to him can't help but want to please him. He's something like a good omen for better times. As if prosperity and hope became flesh and bone.”  
> The slave never met someone like that. And he doubted that such kind even existed. Rubico spoke after a couple of seconds of silence: “Impossible.” he shook his head, convinced. “There's no one that graceful.”  
> “How so?” the soldier asked.  
> “The Gods would want him for themselves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am **THRILLED** to finally get to share this story with you! I started writing it back at the beginning of the summer and I really wanted to finish _Poor Unfortune Souls_ before starting with this one. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it! 
> 
> But, before starting with chapter one, there are some things I want to talk about so you can follow the story without any confusion or trouble:
> 
>   * **Rubico** and **Leonellus** are the same character, but his name will change during the story. You'll find out why in the following chapters! So if you ever see me talking about _**Leo**_ , just keep in mind that I am talking about him until we get to that point of the story. 
>   * Also, I got this question a couple of times while posting about this story on my blog: Yes, you should picture Leo looking like Joe/Eugene while reading this story. The idea is to write a second part (in the future) involving Sledgefu, but... First writing and finishing this story and then, if so, write the second part!
> 

> 
> **Disclaimer:** The story I share with you about Ahkmenrah's past is my own invention, and it's not supposed to be part of the Night at the Museum movies/books. Those belong to 20th Century Fox, Milan Trenc and Leslie Goldman. This story is for entertainment only and sure as heck I don't make any profit out of it. The characters of Ahkmenrah, Kahmunrah, Merenkahre and Shepseheret don't belong to me.
> 
> Finally, one last **warning** : There's a small scene that involves some dubious consent. It's quick and not very explicit but one of the characters does not agree verbally to the intercourse. 
> 
> And... That’s pretty much it. I tried to link the footnotes but I truly couldn't figure it out in the end, so sorry about that...  
> Enjoy and let me know if you liked it, though! :)

Kyrillos died four years ago.

Rubico honored him every day ever since. There wasn't a single morning in which he didn't remember and miss his kind smile, his forgiving eyes and his wise words.

Kyrillos died as a slave. The Dominus always said that he would free him, that he would let him become a freedman before the Parcae[1] would take him. Anyone that knew Tiberius Naevius Parvus could easily draw two conclusions: he had an uncanny resemblance to a shrew —small and with a pointy and long nose— and he didn't seem to be a man of his word.

He _wasn't_.

Kyrillos didn't die over night. It was not a secret that the man was sick and old, and that he wouldn't last much longer. But Parvus always had something better to do, something more important, or in Rubico's eyes, something more _entertaining_. It wasn't unlikely for the masters to free their slaves before death, so they would have the dignity and the right to die as men that owned their own lives.

He was denied that right and Rubico took the responsibility to honor and worship the Goddess Libertas. Spoke to her and promised a sacrifice whenever he would have the means to do so. As soon as he would be one of those she loved and took care of, he would repay her for releasing Kyrillos from the burden of slavery after Mors' embrace.

Rubico played with his pale and thin fingers, his eyes admiring her pileus[2]. The hat crowned her head far more beautiful than gold or any jewel. It was his dream to wear one of those. It would be his pride and joy, and he'd wear it with his chin up and a smile on his lips. A smile they told him he lost many years ago.

They bought a cheerful child. A _puer delicatus_ [3], as the Dominus called him. He only wished to have a child his guests could play with like he was a tamed little animal. Rubico still remebered how they made him dance and run from one side to the other just to feed him a few grapes or pat him on the head. As the little boy that he was back then, he saw it as a game. Now, only the memory of those days made his stomach hurt.

“I don't have much.” he began, as he did every morning. “But what I have is yours.” the slave approached the noble statue of the Goddess and left the piece of bread soaked in sweet wine at her very feet. “Tomorrow I will bring you some honey. I am sure you like it as much as he did.” She had no relationship with the dead. She had no power over The Underworld. Maybe he should visit Pluto as well, but he didn't get enough food for breakfast to please both of them.

Rubico stepped back and thought that, one day, the Dominus would touch his head with a rod. One that would look exactly the same as the one she was holding. And then, just then, he would be free. And that hope didn't survive because he believed in his master. Only because Kyrillos told him he would be free, _someday_.

The old man was never wrong.

With one last sigh, Rubico walked back home. He had plenty of things to do, and the Domina warned him that if he got late once again, he'd he whipped. Unlike her husband, the woman fulfilled her promises. Even more when it came to mistreat her slaves. The only one she truly respected and trusted was her body slave[4], Finnja. Maybe because the old woman was just as cruel as she was if not more.

The Forum was as crowded as usual, but the people were whispering and seemed to be especially focused on the slaves' auction. Rubico couldn't help but feel a little bit curious and stopped to look around. The merchant was entertaining a man that Rubico could only describe as _peculiar_. His skin was dark and the makeup around his eyes was even darker. The man didn't wear a toga; his clothes were lighter, made of linen and gold.

Rubico understood him only because Kyrillos taught him his language:

“No, none of them!” he waved his hand. “I need something _special_. These are skin and bones! He is the descendant of Ra! I need someone worth being in the presence of a _God_!”

He couldn't help but roll his eyes and not take those beliefs all too seriously. Rubico might be just a slave, but he refused to believe that a man could be anything more than that, a _man_.

He kept walking and headed back towards the domus. Before he could even cross the threshold, a strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him away from the door.

“Are you hiding away from me like a little mouse?” the lips were pressed agaist his neck. Rubico's hands moved towards the forearm across his stomach but didn't try to escape. “After all this time?”

“I didn't know you were back.” he replied, calmly.

“You used to wait for me.” that arm became far more possessive and forced him to lean against the wall. The slave looked up at him. Galeatus' face was tanned from his eyebrows to his chin. His forehead was still pale and partially hidden by locks of dark and curly hair. That's how he got his name; the man that never took his helmet off even after the battle was supposed to be called _helmeted_. A brave and arrogant Centurion. “You don't anymore.”

Such thing _never_ happened. Rubico didn't wait for anyone. He was never foolish or innocent: no one saw him as a person. In their eyes, he wasn't and he won't be until he will become a freedman. Galeatus was not any different. What he wanted from him, he gave it to him as any other duty. “I'm late. Domina promised she would whip me if I don't hurry up.” he said.

“I'm sure Urbinia won't be mad if I keep you for myself only a couple of minutes more.” Galeatus insisted before he started to kiss Rubico's neck, dragging his teeth over his skin and forcing it to become red. “ _Rubeo_.” he grinned before his hands moved to the back of his thighs and buttocks, but keeping them above his robe.

“You don't know her well enough, then.” he winced silently when he chewed onto the flesh of his jaw. “Any excuse is good for her to punish me.” Him or any other servant. Urbinia had a passion for violence that was far greater than the one she ever had for her husband.

Galeatus leaned back and squinted a little bit. His eyes looked displeased but Rubico knew he had nothing to fear. As brutish and as demanding he could be, he never tried beat him or make him bleed. It was not kindness but perhaps him assuming that Rubico, skinny and small as he was, had nothing to do against a man that was twelve years older than him, far bigger and taller and that was trained to be an expert at fighting _and_ killing.

“I thought you'd be happier to see me.” he confessed.

Rubico hasn't been happy for far too many years. “I'm not _dissatisfied_.”

The Centurion snorted and nodded. “Isn't that flattering?”

“I have to meet Numerius and Aulus.” he tried to excuse himself still being far too passive to sound apologetic. “And I'm _late_.” It will only get worse because the Domina will make him waste some more time while she whipped him. At this point, it was _unavoidable_.

“I swear to the Gods you care about those kids far more than you care about me.”

He did. Rubico only knew love through the devotion and the affection he had for his master's children. But only for the youngests. Caius was frivolous and liked cruelty as much as his mother did. Titus, always quiet and shockingly evil, died last year at the age of twelve. It was a relief even for his own parents. In more than one occasion he heard the Domina claim that she gave birth to a beast instead of a boy. He agreed with her after finding out about some of the things he did for his own _amusement_.

Rubico took a few more seconds to answer: “They are under my supervision.”

“Your honesty is still _hideous_. Wouldn't harm you to lie a little bit to please others. You'd make it way further.” Galeatus finally stepped back. “I'll join the family tonight. Wait for me after dinner.”

Rubico nodded and asked: “Am I allowed to leave?”

“Go and look after those kids.” he waved his hand.

The slave didn't waste a minute more with him before he stepped inside of the house.

It was the Domina's domain. She'd know, right away, if someone walked inside her property. So Rubico didn't try to hide or run. He knew she would find him sooner than later.

“Puer[5]!” she called as she appeared followed by a limping Finnja, who already grinned while holding the whip in her old and wrinkled hands.

Rubico stopped right in his tracks. “Domina.”

“Where were you, boy? My children are _waiting_ for _you_.” that was uncalled-for.

“Out.” he answered.

Urbinia raised her thin eyebrows. Most of the times, Rubico's dry way of speaking made him look rebellious and displeasing. He wasn't. Not more than other slaves, at least. He simply didn't want to talk more than necessary. He didn't have that much left to say.

“I apologize.” Rubico decided to add as she extended her hand towards Finnja. She gave her the whip.

“You apologize but you don't learn. Turn around.” she ordered.

Rubico did as he was told and braced himself against the nearest column.

The woman whipped him harshly. Not because his fault was too offensive, just because she was often stressed and angry about things that didn't involve any slave of the house. Rubico truly believed that was she was far too passionate for her own good. Having such passive and lazy husband put quite a heavy weight on her shoulders and she had to solve his messes more often than not. While she took everything far too seriously, her husband did exactly the opposite.

He bit his lower lip and squeezed his eyes shut each time the whip hit him on his back. At least this time he was allowed to keep the tunic. The thin fabric didn't protect him all that much, but it was always better than being naked. As he grew up, he learned how to take the punishment without being too loud. Urbinia said that it gave her a headache to hear slaves complaining like little children. That would explain why she liked her children only a little better than her slaves.

It showed that this was more something for her and her nerves than to show Rubico _anything_. She didn't make him count or tell her why he was being punished. She simply lashed out at him because she had a reason. And because it would help her to forget her frustration.

Once she felt satisfied or perhaps tired, she stopped and Rubico sighed. His flesh was throbbing but he wasn't bleeding. The feeling was awfully familiar. While he got used to this, the pain was always bothersome. He turned around and bowed his head. The burning sensation crawled up his spine and pinched his neck when he showed loyalty and even gratitude. “That would be all, Domina?” he asked, always polite and awfully distant.

It was not a secret for the slave that the woman despised him. _It's nothing personal_ , Rubico reminded himself. It was never personal because they never saw him as a _person_ at all. “All of you are the same. _Ungrateful vermin_.”

“Yes, Domina.”

“You owe your _life_ to my husband. I would send you to the mines, puer. You'd last less then four weeks, skinny and frail as you are.”

“Thank you, Domina.”

“I hope you are teaching something worth learning to my children. Kyrillos was nothing but an old fool with no other skill than his... big mouth and little common sense.”

And then Rubico stayed in silence. He tensed his jaw and tilted his head up. While he didn't mind being insulted, shamed or abused, he didn't like it when anyone dishonored his mentor's memory. He stayed in silence and, for once, he let the hatred and the anger reflect in his eyes.

Urbinia crossed his face with the back of her hand. He squeezed his eyes shut, as it did sting as much as his back, at that very moment.

“The next time you'll look at me like that, I'll make sure to get your eyes out of your sockets. Is that understood?” she warned him with a finger. Her skin was also becoming red.

“Understood, Domina.”

The woman shook her head and stepped back before she spat in front of his feet. “I'd kill my own children before letting them become slaves.” That was the Roman way. No Patrician family would ever _risk_ becoming a slave. But Rubico couldn't help but think that he would try to save Aulus and Numerius. He would pick up the youngest and hold the hand of the older boy and lead them out of the city. He would teach them everything he knew and help them become honorable men. “ _Leave_.”

He bowed his head one last time and walked away.

The two boys were patiently waiting for him. Numerius was showing his little brother his clay disks with scenes of famous gladiators at the arena. He explained him briefly what they were doing and which was his favourite. Aulus was still not allowed to go to the amphitheatre and for that same reason, he listened to Numerius with such attention and fascination.

“Why don't you show me what you have?” Rubico said as he approached them. Before he reached out to rest his hand over Aulus' head, the little boy already jumped on him, holding him as tight as possible. Rubico didn't complain even if the flesh of his back was hurting so badly. He crouched and hugged the boy back, tenderly.

Numerius showed him the disk. He was hiding his face behind it.

The poor child was mercilessly bullied by his older brother. So much that he always looked down and did his best to hide the port-wine stain on his left cheek. Rubico put his hand over the disk and lowered it.

“Let me see your face so I know if you are having a good day.” the slave said.

The boy doubted but ended up obeying. He smiled bashfully. Numerius was far more quiet than his little brother. Rubico knew that he would become braver and more confident with time. He was only ten and he had plenty of years ahead of him to learn how to raise his chin with pride.

“Happy, I see...” Rubico hummed. “Oh, and showing well to which family you belong.” he cupped his left cheek and caressed the red skin with his thumb. His Gens got their name, _Naevius_ [6], because back in the day, one of the greatest men in their family had one as well.

Numerius bit his fingers and Rubico pried them away from his mouth.

The slave finally smiled for the very first time during that day. Happiness only bloomed when he was around those two kids. “I'm red, too.” he gestured at his red and swollen cheek. “No need to hide it.”

“You are always red, _Rubeus_.” Aulus quickly added, patting his harmed cheek with a sweet and careful hand.

“That's my name, isn't it?” it _wasn't_. Rubico couldn't remember which was his real name... _if_ he ever had one. All he knew was that the color of his hair that gave him such name and the fact that he was born in Ravenna, awfully close to the river of clay and copper water. Either Rubico, Rubeo or Rubeus. Whatever they would feel like calling him. He knew that he was the red slave. Parvus' red slave. And that was _all_ that he needed to know.

“Red fits you better than it fits me.” Numerius finally dared to say.

“No such thing.” Rubico shook his head. “Now, enough of this. We have plenty to do.” he kissed the crown of Aulus' head and then pinched Numerius' cheek fondly.

*** * ***

Nothing too extraordinary happened during dinner. Galeatus showed up and Parvus didn't look all too pleased about it. It was well known that his father, Claudus, adopted Galeatus because he always wished to have a soldier as a son. Parvus, small and cowardly as he was, could never dream to master the art of Mars. Urbinia tried to make her husband look greater and far more important than he was. Caius, who didn't care much either about his father's reputation or frail ego, spent the whole dinner throwing the bones of fruits at Rubico, who sat at Galeatus' feet —every single one of them had a slave for their own needs and caprices—, and making comments: _I don't like his nose. We should cut it!_

No one said anything about it. Ever since his brother Titus died, it felt like Caius was trying to be as vicious as the young boy was. It was not natural cruelty, it was arrogance and the feeling of power that made him say such things. Didn't make him any better in Rubico's eyes.

The slave only showed some kind of interest in their conversation when Galeatus spoke about an _Egyptian merchant_. That had to be the man he saw that morning at the market. Made sense. Rubico never saw anyone from Egypt, before. Many of the slaves in the city were people that had been captured after a lost war. But Egypt was still a mystery to most of the Romans. When Parvus asked him about that man and Galeatus began to explain, he was sent to bring more wine and missed most of the information.

Rubico did as he was told and waited for Galeatus.

He didn't feel especially _amorous_ tonight. His back was still hurting and he was rather irritated about the fact that he was kept from hearing more about the merchant. Kyrillos usually told him that curiosity was a gift from the Gods but that he should be careful with it. He could end up just like Pandora.

“There you are.” Galeatus said as he entered inside of the chamber where they stored grain and wine. Rubico knew that the slaves that were still in the kitchen would hear them but that didn't bother him. He was always silent and he failed to feel shame through these kind of acts. There wasn't a slave in that house that was not used for some pleasure either by the masters or their guests. Even Caius started to enjoy sex not that long ago, tormenting the young slave girls that usually followed his mother and Finnja around.

Rubico didn't smile. He inclined his head before Galeatus held his chin with his strong and calloused fingers.

“My little Cup-Bearer.” he mumbled with something similar to affection but not quite: _lust_.

The slave had to keep himself quiet. He was not a Cup-Bearer. Only occassionally, when he was needed, like tonight. But first and foremost, he was Numerius and Aulus' tutor. If his life had to have any meaning, it should be because of those children and not because of him. But once again, Rubico knew that Galeatus was a vain man. He liked to call him Cup-Bearer because it made him think of Rubico as Ganymede, so he could be the proud eagle. Both Rome and Jupiter at once. He was neither the city or a God.

 _Men are men. Gods are Gods_.

When Galeatus kissed him, Rubico kissed him back as he learned how to do it. Now, at the age of twenty, it's only been barely two years since he discovered sex. At first he assumed it was because no one considered him all too beautiful with his big nose, pale skin, scrawny body and red hair. That didn't bother him. In fact, saved him plenty of trouble.

The truth was that he didn't think it was all that _interesting_. It was a rather frivolous act. It was when he was used as a tool and to constantly remind him he was a catamite[7], through and through. Maybe he was weak or feminine for thinking that he wouldn't mind to lay under another man if the one above was worth of his respect. Of... of his _love_.

Not that he would _ever_ fall in love. Or be loved in return. He was a _slave_.

But sex was _duty_ to him. So he turned around and braced himself against the amphora as soon as Galeatus put his hands on his waist. The Centurion raised his tunic and was kind enough to give him a couple of fingers before pushed his cock inside of him. Rubico only licked his lips and squeezed his eyes shut before Galeatus started to fuck him, quick and vigorous.

Rubico's mind was somewhere else. It tended to be during sex. He was either thinking about his next task or about something far more thrilling than this. _Anything_ was more interesting than sex. His mind was still at the market, with that merchant. Not that the sight of him aroused him in the slightest. More like it bloomed the need to know now that he was aware that Galeatus knew the answer to his many questions.

He tried to keep himself from asking, but he couldn't help himself: “A-about that merchant...” he began as he panted.

“ _Not now_.” Galeatus firmly replied. He grabbed his hair and pulled back. Then he wrapped his fingers around Rubico's neck and kept thrusting. The slave waited until he was done, not obtaining that much pleasure out of this. Nor pain or sadness, either. It was _meaningless_.

*** * ***

It lasted far more than Rubico thought it was necessary. It was very obvious what was happening and why Galeatus' absence was taking so long. At some point he even heard the Dominus screaming — _not only he eats my food, he also fucks my slaves!_ —. Galeatus only laughed at that, always wanting to irritate and torture the older man.

The worst part was when he was still buried deep inside of him, after he came, with his left hand still around his neck and the right one stroking his dick. He found that _displeasing_. Rubico wanted to be left alone because that was when Galeatus began to ask him if he loved him. And that if he did, he should say it so he would let him come.

Of course, he stayed in silence.

That made Galeatus chuckle, squeezing him a bit too harshly. “Venus truly didn't bless you. There's no love in you if you can't feel it for a formidable man.”

He was not a formidable man. He was _only_ a good soldier.

Rubico nodded a little bit and because the other man was so merciful and _oh, so great,_ he finally let him come.

As he cleaned his thighs, the other observed him and asked: “Why are you so curious about that merchant?”

“I saw him in the market, this morning. He seemed to be trying to find something _special_.”

“That he is.” he hummed.

“But what is _special_?” Rubico insisted a little bit and brushed his tunic. “What is he trying to find, exactly? And for whom? He spoke about Ra.” And while Rubico didn't know much about Egypt, Kyrillos taught him their language and a little bit about their culture. And therefore he knew that Ra was a _God_.

“This is the kind of passion that you show? For knowledge? Or maybe you'd like to become the Pharaoh's pet?” Galeatus grinned as he arched an eyebrow. “He is trying to find the perfect present for the heir. I heard he _finally_ became a man.”

“What makes him so important that a merchant would want to bring him something from another land?”

“I told you so, silly boy. He is the son of the Pharaoh. They believe he is the descendant of Ra.” Rubico heard some men claiming to be descedants of Gods, before. The first kings were the descendants of Romus. And look how _poorly_ that ended. It _could_ be true, but even if he was, maybe the mundane blood made the divine spirit become _weak_. They were nothing but men. Arrogant men. “I heard things about him, myself.”

“Such as?”

“Why are you so intrigued?”

Rubico shrugged. He truly didn't know. There was an itch in his body that could only be soothed with information. “Kyrillos was Greek and also my mentor. It's only normal that I became curious.”

“And that's the only reason, huh?” Galeatus smiled. “Right. I heard that the boy is gentle and kind. Loved by all. That there isn't a single living creature in that land who is not devoted to him. He's favoured by his parents and by his people. I also heard that he is loyal and generous. And that anyone who speaks to him can't help but want to please him. He's something like a good omen for better times. As if prosperity and hope became flesh and bone.”

The slave never met someone like that. And he doubted that such kind even _existed_. Rubico spoke after a couple of seconds of silence: “Impossible.” he shook his head, convinced. “There's no one that graceful.”

“How so?” the soldier asked.

“The Gods would want him for themselves.” they would take him and not let him be ruined by other men who were far more vicious and hungry for power.

“Maybe they will take him soon enough. Either way, you shouldn't worry about that.”

For once, Rubico felt like Galeatus was right.

*** * ***

Parvus was his owner and therefore, he knew _everything_ about him. He couldn't lie to him but that didn't mean he wanted to speak the truth.

It was so obvious what was happening. Parvus was not only a little man in measure, he was also a little man in value. He craved to be feared and admired, but he didn't want to do anything to achieve such position. Everything was given him to him ever since he was a child. He didn't understand that some things take effort and plenty of time. Even sacrifice, more often than desired.

Rubico assumed this must have been Urbinia's plan. He lacked the ambition _and_ the intelligence, but he would never say those words out loud. He was the his master, and therefore, he _had_ to please him.

“Well, puer. Can you do it or not?” Parvus urged him.

The slave licked his lips, still not wanting to speak. He decided to be sincere because he didn't think he could take another beating without having to lay down and he might not have the time to do so. “I can, Dominus.”

“Good. You'll let him know that whatever he is trying to find, I am willing to offer it to him. He won't leave Rome without the gift for his king.”

“ _Pharaoh_.” Rubico couldn't help himself.

The Dominus stopped talking and gave him a severe look. Another thing he learned from his wife. Rubico often asked himself if he had a personality at all before he met Urbinia.

“I apologize.” he bowed his head and held his hands behind his back.

“As I was saying,” Parvus raised his eyebrows. “he is allowed to get _anything_ that he wants. You never know when you might need an ally across the sea.”

This was a stupid move.

A tremendously stupid move. Rome kept spreading and conquering more and more land. The eyes of the Eagle were not looking in that direction. But he didn't want to hear about his opinion. He will only waste riches and time.

He doubted that Naevius Claudus would feel impressed by his son's miscalculation.

“Yes, Dominus.”

“Be nice to him, alright?” he stood up and Rubico stepped back, nodding once again. “As nice as you are to Galeatus, if it takes.” the man added without looking at him, not thinking he was demanding far too much of him.

Rubico forced his tongue to stay behind his teeth. He would have to use all his wit to not have to offer his body. “Understood.”

Parvus didn't bother himself to keep speaking to him. He waved his hand carelessly to ask him to leave. He always ended every single conversation with such a passive attitude. He was still the same man that delayed freeing a dying slave because he always he had something better to do, after all.

*** * ***

The name of the Egyptian merchant was Nephi.

He was friendly and he liked to eat as much as he liked to joke. Rubico didn't smile easily, but that night he tried his best to recover his sense of humor. It was a little easier after seeing that the spirit of the man wasn't as arrogant as he thought it was after a very bad first impression at the market.

“How old is he?” Rubico tried to make a little conversation before the man could think of another joke. He didn't think he could smile during the whole night. It would irritate the Domina.

“He turned eighteen... when I left. He'll be a year older when I come back.” he sighed and shook his head. “I saw him grow and become a man. And yet, I haven't found anything worth of him.”

“Is he as great as I heard?” the slave couldn't help but ask.

“He was blessed with a grace no other man can match. His father is a dear friend of mine.” So he must be extremely powerful. “And he told me, as soon as he was born, that he feared the day that he would have to leave his side. He is the greatest treasure of our land. No man could ever ask for a greater ruler.”

“He is still a boy.” Rubico was only a year older than he was and he wouldn't know how to rule a country.

“He will learn. We will be there to teach him how to be fair and generous.”

“We will hear about your prosperity and greatness.” Rubico did his best to smile. He doubted that such kind boy would survive. Sweetness was usually corrupted and killed with poison.

“Now, tell me, boy.” Nephi reached out to hold his chin, observing him. “How come you can speak my language? You are too pale to be from my land.”

“I'm not.” he kept his head still, not moving in the slightest. “I was taught.”

“By whom?”

“My mentor. Kyrillos.”

“Greek?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, yes. Clever men. Very clever men. A good Roman will take their knowledge and manners and claim them as their own.” he laughed.

He wasn't wrong so the slave continued to smile, each time far more artificial.

“How old are you?” he continued to inspect his face, tugging his hair and making him turn his head from one side to the other.

Rubico truly didn't wish to lay with him. He was interesting. He would rather keep talking to him than having to submit to his desire.

“Twenty.”

“What's your name?”

Then, he doubted. For a moment, he thought about merely saying _red_. But then he decided to answer the one he sometimes thought about himself as: “Rubico.”

Nephi raised his eyebrows: “That can't possibly be. That's a river, isn't it?”

“It is a river and it is also my name.”

“Tell me the story behind it.” he laid down once again, keeping his dark eyes on him.

“There's no story. I was born in Ravenna. The Dominus kept forgetting what to call me.” The merchant didn't look convinced, so Rubico ended up adding: “My hair is red, like the river. It was easier to remember like that.”

“Mhmm...” he rubbed his chin. His thick bejeweled fingers made a soft noise as they moved over the thin beard. “It is red. There aren't that many left in our land.” he didn't explain why. And maybe that was for the best. Nephi reached out to hold the necklace around Rubico's neck. A warning if someone ever found him after betraying his family: _I have ran away; hold me. When you brought me back to my master Parvus, you'll receive a coin of gold_. “You won't be cheap.”

The slave blinked and felt his throat become dry and tight. “Excuse me?”

“You are young boy, a little scrawny but beautiful enough.” vanity had to be paid. No one wanted a slave that was hard to look at. “And not a common slave, but a _house_ slave. An edcuated one: you know my language. And Greek, too, I presume.”

“I can't be bought.” Rubico blurted out, impusilve and a little louder, catching attentions. Then he forced himself to calm down. He was the only one that knew both languages. He had to play his cards well and trick both the merchant and his master. “I tutor the Dominus' children.” the slave lowered his voice again. “He wouldn't let me leave.”

“Is that so?” he hummed and patted his own chin, thoughtful. “Let's speak with him, shall we?”

Rubico had to look calm if he wanted to get away with this. “As you wish.”

He was about to turn and call for his master when Nephi decided to do that, himself: “Parvus, come here!”

The redhead slowly turned when the merchant so easily switched languages. Parvus, of course, presumed that he wouldn't be able to speak Latin, for some reason. And stupid and lazy as he was, he didn't bother himself to _check_.

*** * ***

He had to witness how he was sold to a man they barely met a few hours ago. Was his loyalty and devotion to this family meaningless? The fourteen years he spent with them could be forgotten and dismissed so quickly? How could a whole life change during a conversation that only lasted a few minutes? How was any of this fair?

His opinion didn't matter and yet he couldn't keep himself silent. Not anymore.

“You promised me my freedom.” he sounded so accusative, with his throat tight and his eyes burning. He wanted to _cry_. “As you promised Kyrillos, and now you sell me to the first stranger that comes into your house?”

Parvus frowned and looked at him like he truly didn't expect him to react in _any_ way. “Don't shame me in from my guest, Rubico.”

That was not even his name. He destroyed his identity and now even his chance to become a freedman. While Rubico didn't know as much he would like to about Egypt and their culture, something told him that if he left Rome, he would die as a slave.

“You have shamed me my whole life.” he spoke back, unable to hold his tongue anymore. “You are small man. And a liar. You'll never accomplish _anything_.”

He said such things because he knew that was what would hurt him the most. But Parvus, even if he was no longer his master, had far more control over the situation. And could be far more cruel if he wished to and use the _only_ thing he knew for sure that could make that ungrateful slave twist with pain: “You shall leave _immediately_. I was going to be _merciful_ and let you say goodbye to Numerius and Aulus, but seeing that you have decided to act like a vicious snake, you will leave with no reward and no other kind word from me or my family.”

And that was when Rubico's heart shattered.

The children. He would never see the children ever again. He wouldn't see them grow. He wouldn't be there to take care of them and protect them from two parents that were either too lazy or too violent to provide them any kind of happiness or hope. He would fade away and he wouldn't even have the chance to say goodbye and tell them how much he loved them and how much he would pray for them and their glorious future.

“You can't do that.” he swallowed thickly as his eyes started to well up with tears.

“I haven't. It's you, with your terrible manners and disgusting words, who did it, Rubico. I truly hope your new master will teach you some obidence. The Gods know we have tried our best.”

And those were the last words Parvus would ever speak to him.

**WEEKS LATER**

Nephi was truly a kind man but Rubico found it awfully complicated to grow fond of him. He was, after all, the one responsible for his misadventure.

As he predicted, time only made the pain even worse, far more intimate and closer to the heart. Numerius and Aulus were the only ones he ever learned to love with fraternal devotion and now knowing that he would never see them ever again made him miserable. He didn't speak as they travelled. The merchant tried his best to engage him in a coversation, but not a word escaped from Rubico's lips under any sort of circumstance.

“You shall speak to him respectfully.” Nephi said as Rubico looked at the clear water of the river. The Sun was far more aggressive in their land and the merchant decided to protect the skin of the slave with a cloak made of linen. He also told him it was for the best to cover his hair until they would arrive to the palace. “Speak only if you are spoken to. You shall never call him by his name. You may address him as _Your Majesty_ , _Ruler of Rulers_ , _Pharaoh_ or _The One_.”

Little he cared about the boy that would be king. And little he cared about showing respect for him. Rubico kept his eyes on the waters of the Nile and folded his arms over the edge of the boat. Far, in the distance and by the shore, he could see a pack of hippopotamus drinking from the stream.

“He is not Pharaoh, yet.”

Nephi blinked: “Excuse me?”

“He is not Pharaoh. His father is. Those are titles he doesn't deserve.” he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and tried to brush the maroon fabric off his head.

Nephi kept him from doing such, knowing well that his skin would grow red in matter of minutes. Those who were from the North were practically unable to bear the might of Ra and he didn't want his present to look damaged. “I wouldn't say those words out loud, boy.”

“Why not? I'm speaking the truth.” Rubico frowned, now feeling like everything he kept inside was about to spill. “He is just a boy, only a year younger than I am. And because of him, I've lost _everything_. And because of you.” he poked his chest.

Nephi frowned a little and rubbed the spot where the slave touched him. “Why do you assume your life here would be any worse?”

Rubico smiled, terribly sarcastic and acid. He didn't need to answer that question, did he? It was _obvious_. The merchant opened his mouth but ended up closing it, failing to give him good arguments to change his mind.

Avoiding a further discussion, the slave let his arm fall over the boat, wanting to touch the water. Nephi kept him from doing that as well.

The redhead huffed and crossed his arms once again, resting his cheek over his left wrist. The merchant kept his eyes on him. Rubico refused to think there was any sort of sympathy in them.

“I don't even know his name.” he mumbled after a long silence.

“Mhmm?”

“His name.” Rubico repeated, raising his head a little bit, so his voice wouldn't be muffled against his flesh. “I don't know his name.” Nephi mentioned everything there was to know about a person except his name. “You never told me.”

“I haven't?” Rubico shook his head. “His name is Ahkmenrah.”

“ _Ahkmenrah_.” he tasted the name. It was as strange as it sounded.

“That's it.” the older man nodded.

“What does it mean?” the curiosity in him soothed the pain for a little while. He knew he'd mourn again as soon as he would allow himself to think about his life in Rome.

“The Strength of Ra.”

“Oh, Ra. _Again_. I really didn't expect that.” he couldn't help but whisper with a small huff.

“You shall not speak about Ra with such disdain, boy.” he barely let him finish talking. There was heat and fear in his voice. “The punishment for disrespecting the Sun God is fire. And you do not wish to be burned alive, do you?” Rubico frowned a little bit but did not answer. “There will be plenty who will already want to do that. Do not give them more reasons to ask for your ashes.”

“Why would anyone want to burn me alive?” The situation was already quite _complicated_.

“With your pale skin and red hair, many might claim you are a Typhonian. A Man of Set.”

“And that is...?”

“A _devil_.” Nephi replied. “And any man like you is burned at the grave of Osiris. It's well known that the ashes of a Typhonian could even fertilize the Red Land[8]; make it rich with wheat and grain.”

Rubico frowned and kept his green eyes on him. “Did you bring me here to get sacrificed to your Gods? To make your land fertile?”

“Oh, no, no.” he waved his hand with a smile. “Our Majesty is fond of everything that is odd and unusual. He will be fond of you, _bizarre_ as you look.”

That was not very flattering, was it it?

Rubico sulked a little more and turned around, holding his knees against his chest, this time. “What will he do with me? Which are my duties?”

“Oh, I guess he will find something you can do. But I brought you as a present. As a companion. Everybody needs a trusted confidant, don't you think? Someone you can talk to while knowing that they would keep your secrets no matter what.”

“I am not to become his _friend_.” Juno save him from such _sacrilege_.

“I said confidant, not friend.”

“I don't have the time to listen to a foolish boy! I was a tutor! My knowledge meant something! It's what made me important for the family!” he snapped. He didn't want to gossip and pretend to be interested in the very few problems that boy could have.

“Do not speak like that. You'll be mesmerized as soon as you see him and will want to please him. He was gifted by the Gods with a grace that cannot be compared to any other man's.” Nephi repeated.

“I bet he is _just_ handsome.” and beauty has never been all that impressive to Rubico.

“Now you just want to be complicated and disrespectful.” he scolded him. “And if you keep acting like that, you might lose your tongue.”

“Good!” the slave huffed, earning another harsh look from the merchant.

“ _Now_.” Nephi frowned. “Let's go through the pantheon once again and see if you remember every God that I taught you about.”

And that distracted him for a few minutes, because Rubico was always willing to prove the good student that he has always been.

*** * ***

“For the last time, Your Majesty, you _must_ take a wife.” Kawab insisted as he chased him. “Your father won't stay with us forever and we need to ensure that your brother won't try to use your lack of heirs as a way to make you look _unfitting_.”

“I don't think that having children has anything to do with being a good ruler. Do you?” Ahkmenrah asked absently as he smiled, looking at the little vervet monkey over his shoulder eating a piece of fruit.

The Vizier closed his eyes and exhaled. He has been trying his best to lead and teach the young man, but he was still foolish and easily distracted. It was well know that Ahkmenrah was charming and captivating. _Mesmerizing_ , even. But he knew that plenty of his grace came from the fact that he was still young and people grew fond of his kindness and innocence. He needed to grow up and become a fair man.

“As a Pharaoh, your body will become the house of the Great Gods, and your people will see them through you. They have to feel like you are willing to protect and take care of them like they were your own children; with diligence and forgiveness.”

“Right.” Ahkmenrah chuckled. The boy was still playing with the monkey, trying to steal his food and seeing how the little animal grew angry and swatted his hand away. “You like him? I named him Idu because he acts like a little boy. He was a present.” he finally looked at the older man. “I love presents, Kawab.”

“I know, Your Majesty. _I know_.” as much as a spoiled child did. “About your wife...” he tried once again. He would _always_ try.

“What for? She'd be miserable. I'd be miserable. Our children would be miserable. Everybody in the palace would be miserable. Even you, Kawab!” he rested a hand over the man's shoulder. “I wouldn't want you to be miserable, you are such a loyal advisor. We could say that, in the end, I'm doing this for you, as well. Now tell me how much you like my monkey.”

Kawab parted his lips and frowned even more.

“Come on, I'm waiting.” the young heir urged him a little bit, still smiling happy and careless.

“He's very...” his eyes moved towards the little monkey. The animal looked back at him while munching. “ _cute_.”

“That's exactly what I thought! I really enjoy it when we agree, Kawab. You are such a wonderful company. It's delightful to have you around.” he squeezed his shoulder. It was complicated to not get lost in the compliments. That's how Ahkmenrah got away with practically _anything_.

Kawab, who was old and far too used to the young man's charm, was about to reply and tell him that he either chose a wife or that he would do it for him, but then they were interrupted. The heavy doors slammed open and the servant quickly excused himself and bowed as soon as they saw him, not expecting to find them so soon.

“Yes?” Kawab arched an eyebrow.

“Nephi has arrived.” he announced. “He brought a present for His Majesty.”

Ahkmenrah quickly lightened up. “Wonderful news! Do you think it might be another monkey? Idu could use a playmate, I believe.” he ticked the monkey's chin with his finger.

“Absolutely not.” They had enough with one monkey running around the palace. “You may receive the present once I approve it.”

“Kawab, come on! I'm curious, now!”

“Go to the throne room and wait there.” the Vizier said one last time, sounding strict.

Ahkmenrah pouted and mumbled something under his breath when he was left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 The Parcae were the female personifications of destiny who directed the lives (and deaths) of humans and gods. The names of the three Parcae are: Nona, Decima and Morta. Source: Wikipedia. 
> 
> 2 Pileus: A hat given to freed slaves. 
> 
> 3 A Puer Delicatus, meaning "delicate boy', otherwise known as Deliciae or "delightful ones" was a child slave of a dominus. Roles assigned to these children could vary widely, depending on the individual needs of the Roman upper-class. Often, they held a privileged place in their master's esteem and were viewed as little more than pets. They could play the part of a young body-slave by attending their master's person, or were assigned as companions for the master's own children. Source: Spartacus Wiki. 
> 
> 4 The Body Slave or Servus Corporis was a personal attendant to a Dominus or Domina. They attend their masters wherever they go. Source: Spartacus Wiki. 
> 
> 5 Puer, pueri: Boy. Any male slave, no matter how old they were, were addressed as puer. Puella for female slaves. 
> 
> 6 Naevius: Term that comes from naevus (“birthmark”, “mole”). Source: Wiktionary. 
> 
> 7 Catamite: Another name given to Ganymede. The term is given to the man (usually young) that takes the "passive" or "submissive" role while having sex with another man. While homosexuality was not seen as something to be condemned, it was unthinkable and even disgraceful that a free man would let a slave take the dominant position. 
> 
> 8 The Red Land which comprised the deserts and foreign lands surrounding Egypt, Seth was its lord. It was considered a region of chaos, without law and full of dangers. Source: Wikipedia.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His silence was an act of rebelry. The only one he was capable of.  
> Ahkmenrah's hopeful smile slowly fell from his lips and nodded. “I understand... if you are mad? I would be mad.” he tried to show some sympathy. “I would be very mad! I don't know much about slaves,” they weren't interesting enough. While the Prince was kind and compassionate, he was childish and didn't commit or tried to see the real problems beyond the palace. He was not quite ready to be Pharaoh, yet. “but I can only imagine you had your life in Rome, right?” he raised his eyebrows but Rubico didn't speak or even look at him. “I am convinced it will be just as good, here. If not better!” he beamed.  
> Such a stupid thing to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playing with the big boys! :)  
> (Yes, I absolutely took that scene from Prince of Egypt and added to this story because I love it) 
> 
> BTW, No. No one likes our Roman boy and I think it shows.

“Red is the color of destruction, fire and fury. It's danger, hunger and blood.” began the Priest Hanbar, tall and thin, walking around Rubico, pulling onto his hair. The slave frowned and moved away from his spider hands.

“Red is the color of Set, of chaos. Of traitors and those who had been banished.” continued Priest Jabari, short and rounded, holding Rubico's chin as he turned his head.

“This boy is a bad omen. We shall sacrifice him to the Gods. They will reward us with a prosperous harvest.” Priest Hanbar decided. “We shall take him to Osiris' temple in three days.”

“When the Sun raises.” Priest Jabari concluded.

Rubico hated the way they spoke, finishing each other sentences. They looked far too different to be twins or even brothers. They had no reason for this _insufferable show_.

“We can't do that.” Nephi finally spoke. He looked as exasperated as Rubico felt. He took the slave by the arm and made him stand closer to him and further from the priests. “He is a present. It's not you who will decide his fate.”

“Who will?” the priests asked.

“Me.” the Vizier said as he stepped inside of the chamber. Both of them bowed but didn't look awfully pleased that the older man dared to imply he had more power than they did. “Nephi, what did you bring this time?” he sighed, briefly looking at Rubico.

“Exactly what Our Majesty needs.” the merchant smiled.

“Which is...?”

“Him.” he said as he fixed Rubico's thin cloak once again over his head, covering his hair. It had been pulled down moments ago by the priests. “I brought him from Rome. He is calm, intelligent, loyal and he speaks three different languages.”

“And why would he need him?” he crossed his arms. “He's a slave boy, I presume.”

“That he is. That's why he is so loyal.” Nephi surely knew how to sell _anything_. Rubico still frowned and considered that being a slave didn't help him to learn the importance of being loyal. Only _obedient_.

“He is _still_ a redhead.” The Vizier insisted, agreeing with the point that was made by the priests.

“But he is skin is white.” Nephi gestured toward the slave face.

“Doesn't make him any better or more important.”

“No, but brings balance to the red of his head. White is the color of purity, sacre—”

“He can't be sacred if he doesn't worship our Gods.” Priest Jabari interrupted him before he was silenced by the Vizier.

Nephi continued speaking: “of sacredness, cleanliness and simplicty. Your clothes and your sandals are white because they are sacred.” he gestured at the priests who looked at Rubico with pure disgust. “And red is not only a color of chaos, it's also the color of the Sun, the color of life and protection.” he showed the amulet he wore himself: crimson. “But red and white, together, are the colors of the Sekhemty: Deshret and Nedjet[1]. Glory and unity. That's exactly what he needs to reign.”

“The Deshret is _also_ the Red Land, the desert, barren as it can be.” the Vizier sighed. “Why didn't your bring him a wife? Or even a woman. At least he would be able to impregnate her. This boy...” he shook his head and pressed the heel of his hand against Rubico's stomach. “I don't know, Nephi. This is not what we need, right now.”

Rubico wished to be rejected. To be sent back to Rome. Maybe Parvus would take him back. No humilliation would be too unbearable if the reward was to see the children again.

“He is willing to accept our Gods as the only true Gods.” Nephi insisted. Rubico never accepted such condition, he merely learned the names and domains of each deity. And how similar they could be to the ones he already worshipped.

“Well, that's not exceptional. He _must_ if he wants to stay.” the Vizier looked at the slave, thoughtful.

“If we are allowed to interrupt,” Priest Hanbar began, playing with those long fingers of his that Rubico learned to hate with passion as soon as he pulled his hair. “it would be only fair to let the Gods accept the stranger and not force them to submit to our decision.”

Kawab nodded slowly. “Sounds reasonable. But first, let's take him to His Majesty. If he doesn't want him, there's no reason to keep him around.” he turned around. “Nephi, bring the boy with you and follow me.”

“Don't you worry about a thing. He is compassionate. He will like you.” Nephi whispered as they walked behind the advisor.

Rubico was not scared. But he stayed in silence, not completely agreeing to the fact that he would have to forget about his own Gods to accept theirs. He had no choice? No chance he could still praise and honor his own while respecting theirs?

Those thoughts were quickly forgotten as he saw more and more of the inside of the palace. Rubico didn't get to see much from the city. As soon as they got off their ship, he felt so hot and overwhelmed, that the slave ended up passing out and barely remembered the moments before arriving to the palace. The first thing he saw was the colossal edification. He felt both fascinated and impressed. The Romans were used to big constructions, but this was something _different_.

The ceilings were tall. Far taller than Rubico ever saw at any Domus that he has ever visited with Parvus. The columns were thicker too, made out of white stone: over them there were symbols... _No_. That was their language. Those were messages. _Charms_. And while the slave knew how to be able to understand them and make himself be understood, he was still unable to decode all the hieroglyphs. He guessed that if the Prince allowed him to stay, he would have plenty of time to learn them.

As they arrived to the largest doors Rubico ever saw —even bigger than the doors of the city of Rome—, the Vizier finally turned around and gave him a few directions: “You shall not look at him. As soon as you stand before him, you'll kneel and won't look up or move unless he asks you to. You won't speak. I will speak for you, and if necessary, I will allow you to intervene. Is that understood?”

Rubico was not looking at him, he was far too fascinated by the statues framing the door. On the right, there was a woman: Isis, the mother. On the left, her son: Horus, the sky. And sitting on top of the door, there was Osiris, with his arms crossed over his chest, holding the crook and flail. The God of Resurrection and Protector of all Egypt. Funny enough, the God was not green as Nephi told him. The three statues had been made with pure gold.

“Can he understand me?” Kawab asked as the slave was not even looking at him.

“I can.” Rubico replied, absently.

“No more distractions, boy.” he scolded him. “Look down.”

He did as he was told and the older man covered his forehead even more with his cloak until the fabric was resting over the bridge of his prominent nose.

“Stay behind Nephi.”

And so he did. The merchant was a rather voluminous man; taller than Rubico, as well. He wouldn't be seen unless the man stepped aside.

As the doors opened, the slave took a deep breath and decided to not think about anything. For better or for worse, this was his life, now. And there was no use in thinking about Numerius and Aulus at that very moment. Their memory wouldn't make him strong. Only weep like a lost child.

“Nephi, merchant of Sais.” he was announced. Rubico didn't know by who. He could only see his own feet. His sandals looked old and the leather was weak and thin after these weeks of travelling with the other man.

Ahkmenrah looked like a child sitting on his father's throne: small and without really understanding the importance of his seat. It was made of gold, like the statues decorating the large doors, with the Eye of Ra guiding any ruler that would sit on it and enlightening them with wisdom and the sense of justice. The solar disk was large and crimson, reflecting the sunlight, with two snakes twisting and wrapping around it: each of them crowned. The heads of two lions were used to create the both arms of the throne. Ahkmenrah had his left leg over one of them, swaying his foot lazily as his little companion was perched on his knee, trying to grab the young heir's finger when he kept poking him.

As soon as he heard the name of the merchant being announced, he gasped and his eyes widened. “You finally came back!” he offered his arm to the monkey. Idu quickly climbed and sat on his shoulder. Ahkmenrah stood up, as if that could make the merchant walk any faster. The throne room was insanely large and it did take the wealthy a man a bit to reach the bottom of the stairs. “You promised a present, last time. I assume you brought two, right? The one you promised and the one you owe me. I'm no longer eighteen.” he beamed, bright and chipper.

“Your Majesty.” he bowed, about to kneel.

“Oh, don't bother. You are not getting any younger. Come. Come here!” he quickly reduced the distance between them and pulled him into a tight hug. Idu grabbed Nephi's ear and pulled, curious about the stranger. The merchant did as much as he could to not complain or comment on the monkey's actions.

Meanwhile, Kawab grabbed Rubico's arm and made him take a step back and then another one to the side, to not bother the other two men as they greeted each other. “ _Down_.” he ordered quietly, teaching him the basic protocol when it comes to meeting the one that would be Pharaoh. The proper position was him kneeling on the floor with his palms on the ground and his forehead resting over the back of his hands. And there he would wait until he would be seen.

And while he did, he couldn't help but notice that while the floor was white and shiny, there was sand clinging onto his palms. He didn't even want to think how much work it would take to clean such chamber. At least it wasn't bothering him or digging painfully against his knees.

“I only brought one present. But one that will last for plenty of years.” Nephi frowned as Idu continued to try to pull his left ear.

“Really?” Ahkmenrah's smile was just as big, poking his monkey and trying to teach him some manners. He was _somehow_ domesticated. If there was food involved. “Where is it?” he stood on his tiptoes, trying to see behind the merchant.

The Vizier gestured towards the boy on the floor.

“ _Oh_...” he whispered, a little disappointed, assuming that it was a bunch of fabrics, at first. “Wait, it's a person!” he quickly noticed as he gasped. He quickly took Idu off his shoulder and forced the merchant to hold him. Idu was stubborn and still wanted to steal Nephi's earring.

Rubico would have wanted to say that _of course_ he was a person. What was he supposed to be? He was a person... Well. Not exactly. He was a man... A slave. He could hope to become a person, _someday_.

“Let me help you.” Ahkmenrah said. The first thing Rubico thought was that his voice sounded youthful and warm. Of course, he made the language sound far more beautiful. When it came out of Rubico's mouth, it sounded like he had a sore throat or that he was running out breath. He assumed all the royals would sound like whistling songs. “Here.” he crouched and held both of his arms.

“You shouldn't touch him, Your Majesty. We haven't bathed him yet.” the Vizier tried to interrupt him but Ahkmenrah frowned a little bit.

“Don't be _rude_ , Kawab.” he wouldn't pass the chance to scold him back. He didn't get to do it often. “He's my guest, now.”

“He is a _slave_.”

“In my house. A guest. _Thank you_.” And with that, it was clear that he didn't want another reply or correction from him.

It took some encouragement to get Rubico off the floor. He was told to stay there, but then to obey. And never look at him or speak back to him. He only had to remember that, right? Ahkmenrah squeezed his arms over the two layers of clothing and slowly stood up with him.

“I can't see him like this.” he mumbled as he carefully unwrapped the cloak from around his shoulders and discovering his hair. As soon as he saw the crimson shade crowing his head, Ahkmenrah gasped yet once again only a little louder this second time. He gave the cheap maroon fabric to the Vizier who let it fall to the floor with a small look of disgust. It was covered in sand and sweat. “Look at this...” the boy whispered and brushed the locks of red hair with his fingers. It didn't come off. It was all natural.

Rubico was secretely grateful that he didn't tug his hair like that stupidly tall priest did. While still looking down, he could only compare how different their sandals looked. He wished to own the ones the young heir was wearing: new and shiny. With golden details and made of strong leather. They were very comfortable. Rubico could use those for _decades_.

Ahkmenrah continued to caress the soft hair that was a little moist due the heat outside the palace. Then he smoothed his thin eyebrows with his thumbs, making Rubico blink a little bit, confused. He felt tempted to step back when those same thumbs touched his eyelashes, even if he was very careful. Instead, he decided to close his eyes and stand still while the younger man seemed to be fascinated about the fact that everything that grew on his face was as red as it could be. Ahkmenrah traced his jawline with his fingertips and remembered that Romans didn't have the habit to grow beards. And he wasn't all so sure that this boy in front of him could grow a decent one considering he looked so young and had such thin and delicate hair crowning his head.

Then he turned his face to the side. Another finger landed on his face, this time to trace his profile. “So this is the famous Roman nose I heard about, right?” he saw a few Roman coins. Their deities usually had big noses with prominent bridges. The nose of the slave matched perfectly with what he had in mind. Ahkmenrah couldn't help but think that it was _beautiful_. It would help him to remember the face of the boy. The Gods know he usually forgot both names and faces, but in his defense, he met plenty of people and a very few of them looked at him in the eye. “I like it.”

Rubico would have opened his eyes to be able to tell if he was lying or not. Not that he ever felt self-conscious about anything regarding his looks. He merely knew that there were other noses that were far more beautiful than his. A simple fact.

“What's his name?” Ahkmenrah asked as he cupped Rubico's face, trying to get him to raise it to take a better look at his eyes. Those were still closed and that made the boy frown.

“ _Deshret_.” The Vizier answered. The old man didn't ask Rubico's name at any moment. That was not his name, but once again, neither was Rubico. Did it really matter that they changed it? He failed to feel offended or crossed at that fact. It only made him feel further from Numerius and Aulus. He licked his lips, trying to think about something else to keep himself from aching.

“Impossible!” Ahkmenrah huffed. “With such pale skin he wouldn't survive the Red Land. What's his _real_ name?”

 _His real name_. He didn't have one. The name he had was whatever that other felt like calling him. _Rubico_ , as Parvus called him because of the river. _Rubeus_ , as Aulus called him because of his red hair. _Rubeo_ , as Galeatus called him because his skin became red under his lips. _Leonellus_ , as Kyrillos called him as a child because he said he was brave and reckless as a little lion. Maybe that was the closest thing he ever had to a name. Something that was not a description to not confuse him with another slave.

“It doesn't matter.” Kawab insisted.

“It matters to me.” he furrowed his nose. He would find out. That boy would have to deal with the burden of being the young heir's entertainment. “He's not looking at me. You told him, didn't you? I hate it when you do that.” It would really help if people looked at him. He would be able to judge their intentions and remember a familiar face. “Deshret, would you look at me?” Ahkmenrah asked as he pressed his thumbs a little more against his cheeks.

Rubico opened his eyes but didn't look at him. He looked at Kawab from the corner of his eyes, asking for permission or at least some guidance. The Vizier nodded and that was when Rubico allowed himself to raise his eyes and focus them on the face of the stranger.

He didn't quite expect _that_.

Sure, he was told that the boy was young but he truly didn't expect that... _aura_ around him. Galeatus told him that the Prince was loved by all. That no creature could deny him their love. _Prosperity and hope made flesh and bone._ There was something in the way he smiled, so easily, with white and straight teeth. An innocence that was not meant to last that long, and that still survived inside of his chest. Like it was a treasure that made other people feel drawn to him just to be blessed with some of that kindness.

His eyes were painted with the dark makeup he saw on every man he encountered ever since he set a foot on this strange land, but unlike them, his head was not shaved. Ahkmenrah's hair was unruly and wild. Thick and sticking up like he just took off his crown or wig. Rubico's fingertips tingled and he almost felt the need to test the texture. See if there was sand in his scalp like there was in his own hair after their trip.

For a second he could understand those who wanted to please him. It was like he was looking at him like he was a real man. Like he was someone whose life had some meaning or purpose. Even if it was to become his... What was that, again? _Confidant_?

Something told him that childish as he seemed to be, he would be something more like a _plaything_.

Ahkmenrah raised his eyebrows and smiled even wider, if possible. “His eyes are green! That's good. Balances his hair.” The red was the color of the Deshret, of Set. Green and black were the colors of the Kemet, of Osiris. The boy wouldn't be a bad omen. Not when his eyes reflected curiosity and a forgotten tenderness. “Oh, Kawab. I really want to keep him. I have the feeling we'll become good friends!”

 _Friends_. He never had friends, before. And by the way the Vizier looked at them both, Rubico could tell that they really wouldn't become friends.

“If you say so, Your Majesty.”

“I'm sure. I have a good feeling about this.” Ahkmenrah continued to smile and his thumbs caressed Rubico's cheekbones. In that moment, the slave noticed that the young heir was only taller than he was because he was still standing on the very last step of the stairs. “And you should know, Deshret, I don't make mistakes often.”

This time Rubico didn't need to look at Kawab again to know he was lying once more. He heard him _sigh_.

“Do you feel it, too? I sure do!” he beamed, brightly. Rubico only frowned a little bit, thinking that while the enthusiasm was somehow endearing, it was _too much_. He was a complete stranger. He could want to harm him and he would still be oblivious to that fact. His silence made Ahkmenrah doubt and ask: “Can he speak? I don't think he can speak. Does he have a tongue?” And then Rubico had to deal with the shame of having the Prince's fingers prying his mouth open, to check that he did have a tongue. And since he was there, he also made sure that his teeth were healthy and still had them all. “He can't understand me, right?”

“He can. He has nothing to say.” Kawab replied.

“Well, he will have to talk to me sooner or later.” Ahkmenrah mumbled, sounding slightly sour for the very first time. It was strange to have someone's thumbs over his molars, Rubico considered. But while that bothered him quite a bit, it wasn't until he asked about his collar that he got really uncomfortable. “What's this?” he said as he touched the surface with the inscription of what to do if they found him running away from his _family_.

Nephi, who was still fighting with the overly curious monkey, spoke: “A symbol of his past owner. I was not the one supposed to take it off him. You are, Your Majesty.”

“I see...” he continued to play with it and Rubico even moved his hands, this time. He raised them but then he remembered he couldn't touch him so he forced himself to keep his wrists glued to his hips. “Dagger!” he extended his hand towards the side, with his palm up.

He didn't have to make any effort before one of the guards quickly rushed towards him and left exactly what he asked for on his hand.

Rubico looked at the exchange with nervous eyes and shifted a little bit. This was not supposed to happen like this. Of course he wished to be released from the burden of being related to Parvus, but not to become someone else's. He didn't want to be a property anymore. He wanted to be a free man. And... As sad and miserable as it sounded, that collar also was the last thing that reminded him that he was ever Numerius and Aulus' tutor. Those kids were Rubico's only weakness. And now they were only memories. He was scared those would fade away as soon as he would begin his new life as _Deshret_.

Ahkmenrah began to cut the leather around his neck and Rubico squeezed his eyes shut. His muscles became all tense and this was _not right_. Not how he dreamed it would be. The Goddess Libertas didn't even exist in this land. Did they have a deity for freedom and for those who finally achieved it?

The weight over the back of his neck disappeared and heard the piece of metal falling over the floor, between their feet. That was what made Rubico react, far too late and abruptly. He stepped back and brought his hands to his neck, smacking Ahkmenrah across the face in the process. There was no violence in the gesture, only fear.

Still the sound of flesh crashing against flesh made everybody fall silent. Like Rubico truly performed some vicious act possible. Ahkmenrah blinked astonished. He covered his cheek with his hand, It didn't hurt, but it's been ages since anyone ever dared to lay a hand on him. Not even his parents hit him to show him rectitude or discipline.

Rubico looked at Nephi, as if asking him what to do. The merchant rubbed his lips with his hand and gulped. _Nothing_. Then he quickly looked at his right, at Kawab. The Vizier sighed and turned around: “Guards, seize him and cut his hands.”

The six of them moved towards him, with their hands on the handle of their sword. What could Rubico do against them, weak and unarmed as he was? He parted his lips, about to say something. Maybe even beg for his life, he was not sure. His brain didn't come with an excuse by the time that the punishment was chosen.

It was Ahkmenrah who stopped them: “No! Enough!” he wrapped his arms around him and held him close to his chest. Rubico still had his hands close to his chest, maybe at some point he raised them to implore. They ended up trapped between both of their bodies. “It was an accident. He's scared, can't you see?” the Prince frowned. The fingers of his right hand caressed Rubico's scalp, soothingly and he didn't understand what was happening anymore. Why was he worthy of any sort of affection if he didn't know him? “This shows nothing but his loyalty to his former master.”

“He is no longer tied to him or Rome. He will either live by our rules or _die_.”

“He will learn!” Ahkmenrah insisted. “I have decided to keep him. And I am responsible for his words, his acts and his life. He belongs to me and I will choose over him. Is that understood?”

“As long as the Gods agree with your judgment.” the Vizier crossed his arms.

“What?”

“He will be put through trial. If one of them shows that he deserves to stay in our land, he will.” Kawab explained. “And if they don't, he will die.”

No matter what, Rubico's second option was _always_ death. He couldn't help but frown a little bit.

“I speak for the Gods. Isn't that _enough_?” Ahkmenrah argued.

“It has been decided. Priest Hanbar and Priest Jabari said so.”

Ahkmenrah let out a groan of pure disgust. Kawab hushed him.

*** * ***

“You don't have to worry about a thing,” Ahkmenrah forced him to sit down over the colourful cushions. Rubico couldn't help but pull the soft tassels that decored the four corners of one of them. He was _nervous_. “the Trial of the Gods sounds far more intimidating than it really is.”

Rubico was quite convinced that if you were to be judged by Gods you did not worship, you should be scared. Any other reaction would be _stupid_.

“Anukis will probably take care of you. We'll bathe you in the Nile and you'll be ours forever.” he smiled, so happily, as he took his left ankle. “These Roman sandals of yours are so ugly. And old! I'll get you something better.” he commented as he untied it and threw it over his shoulder before he did the same with the right one. “ _Mhmm_...” he observed him while he still crouched in front of him. Then Ahkmenrah reached forward to touch the hem of Rubico's tunic.

The slave stopped his hands right away. But then remembered one of the very few orders he was given yesterday: _Don't touch him_. Rubico quickly let him go but left his hands over his tunic, over his thighs. Like that he carefully moved the Prince's hands towards his knees.

 _No_.

Rubico was not very sure what he wanted from him, but he _wouldn't_ get it. Ahkmenrah was a young handsome man, yes. But that wasn't enough. He didn't want to be mounted for his pure entertainment while he silenced himself. He had plenty of those experiences back in Rome and he decided that this wouldn't keep happening here. _No matter what_.

Ahkmenrah's intentions were far more honest than he thought.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah.” he quickly moved his hands away. “You should take a bath. Not that you smell bad. You smell like the desert. Which... Makes sense, Deshret.” he bit his lower lip and smiled, still gentle even if a a little awkward. “But you know... It would be easier if you spoke to me.” the young heir spent the whole night thinking about the little red slave. About his Roman nose, his overly pale skin and his fear when he took his necklace. He even spoke about him to his mother. She promised that she would meet him as soon as the Gods would accept him. “We could start with a simple question: What's your real name?” he asked, sitting on his ankles and waiting for the answer.

And that never came. Rubico had his eyes focused on his hands over his lap. He didn't have a _real_ name. He wouldn't be able to answer that question even if he wanted to. But thing was... He didn't _want_ to speak. He was angry. And sad. Last night, as soon as he was left alone in the little room he was given, Rubico cried. A lot. He cried for hours and yet without making any noise. He would never be free, now. And he would never see the kids again. Only because someone thought he was fitting to become a _present_.

His silence was an act of rebelry. The only one he was capable of.

Ahkmenrah's hopeful smile slowly fell from his lips and nodded. “I understand... if you are mad? I would be mad.” he tried to show some sympathy. “I would be very mad! I don't know much about slaves,” they weren't interesting enough. While the Prince was kind and compassionate, he was childish and didn't commit or tried to see the real problems beyond the palace. He was not quite ready to be Pharaoh, yet. “but I can only imagine you had your life in Rome, right?” he raised his eyebrows but Rubico didn't speak or even look at him. “I am convinced it will be just as good, here. If not better!” he beamed.

Such a stupid thing to say.

Seeing that the slave wouldn't talk back, Ahkmenrah nodded as he stood up. “I'll be with you. But by now, let them bathe you, alright?” he gestured towards the four servants that were waiting in the corner, with their hands together in front of them and looking down; grateful and humble.

Their mannerism changed as soon as he left.

*** * ***

They scrubbed his body with oil and natron until his skin began to turn red. At some point, Rubico winced and moved his limbs away from them before they could harm him any further. He only went to the thermae a couple of times back home. Never to bathe himself, only to accompany his master and wait at the door. He took care of his hygene back home, with his own hands. So let them touch him and clean him was _strange_. Very uncomfortable, as well. Maybe he was not fit to be anything other than a slave if he was not willing to let others _serve_ him. Even if it was just for a little while.

The torment was not over.

Once they washed his body, they got rid of all of the hair that he had over it. He noticed that not even the servants had any. Their forearms were soft and smooth. Maybe it was a custom. Or maybe just a way to stay clean. All that he knew was that his body itched and felt strange to be that _hairless_. He couldn't help but poke his flesh and consider that he looked even paler.

They opened his mouth and cleaned his teeth with a strange paste that smelled like mint and salt. Then he gulped an infusion of honey and spices and washed off the taste. He felt far more clean that he has ever been before. His gums were a little tingly and he also touched them with his fingertips as they brushed his hair and carefully applied the dark makeup around his eyes to make them look sharp and with an almond shape; their perfect idea of beauty. If he wanted to be accepted by the Gods, he should look like he was willing to embrace their ways.

He still didn't like the feeling. It was like there was sand around his eyes, waiting to fall over his eyelashes. Rubico couldn't even rub them.

The only pleasing part of this _ritual_ was when they let him sit inside of the cold water for a few minutes before they spread a flower oil over his body. It soothed the irritated skin.

Finally they dressed him up with a long white tunic that reached his feet. It didn't look very appealing on him since he his skin was practically the same color as the linen. They even tightened the tunic around his waist with a piece of green fabric. He had the feeling that if it was Set the one that decided to welcome him into this new land, he wouldn't get to see the Sun raise ever again.

They gave him no shoes only another dark cloak to cover his hair.

*** * ***

“I don't have time for games, brother.” said Kahmunrah as he kept walking. “And even less if it's to show me one of your _pets_. We all had enough with that nasty monkey of yours.”

“Idu is not a nasty monkey.” Ahkmenrah frowned as he followed his older brother. “He is a boy! A pale boy with a Roman nose and beautiful flaming hair. You should see him. I think he is graceful! He is about to be judged by the Gods! They will bless him and he will be _ours_.” Well. He was not willing to share. “ _Mine_. The details are not important.” he quickly rushed to stand in front of his brother, walking backwards since the eldest was truly not stopping. “What do you think? It will be entertaining!” his smile was wide.

Ahkmenrah's smile was always wide. He was always happy, always bright and sweet for he had nothing to worry about. Nothing that made him suffer. Nothing that could keep him awake at night. No effort was ever demanded from him. No proof was ever required before deciding he was good enough for something he so desperately craved. He was never wronged and ignored to favor someone else.

Kahmunrah's smile, instead, was cynical and even cruel: “If Sobek is the one to judge him, I'll hear how your little slave was ripped apart by a crocodile.”

“Don't be like that.” the youngest frowned. “There's nothing to despise about him. He is quiet and calm. _Beautiful_ , too.” It was well known that Ahkmenrah was fond of beautiful young men. “Mother said that she will speak to him after the ceremony. You should come.”

“I have very little to speak with your mother, Ahkmenrah.” his voice was firm even if it came out with a light lisp.

The Prince opened his lips but he was pushed aside by Kahmunrah. He huffed and decided to stop chasing him. The Gods know that his older brother was sour and hard to please. Oh, well! He had no malice, Ahkmenrah was sure of that.

“Your Majesty!”

As soon Ahkmenrah heard Priest Hanbar's voice, he groaned lowly. He found those two abrasive and beyond unbearable.

“Yes?” he turned around to look at the both of them.

“The ritual is about to start. The Gods request your presence.” reminded him Priest Jabari.

“Yes, yes. I'm coming.” he nodded and walked past them.

*** * ***

Ahkmenrah sat on his father's throne and smiled. He looked around and he was pleased that many came to witness how his new friend, _Deshret_ , was accepted as part of their home and their culture. The Gods would love him, he was sure. He already did and it was known that he spoke for them and they spoke through him.

When the doors opened, everybody started whispering and trying to get to see the stranger. There were rumors that he was sent by Set himself. That his hair resembled the mane of a lion. But truth to be told, the reality was quite disappointing. The Roman was nothing but a scrawny boy covered in fabric and that walked with wobbly knees.

Rubico tried to show no fear, but he was about to be judged by _Gods_. In the same way that Romans adapted the mythology and the practices of the Greek, he assumed that each God could have their very same replica or counterpart all over the world. What if they were angry? What if he didn't worship them how he has supposed to? What if they were completely different and those craved submission and blood?

He squeezed his own arms; he has been holding himself ever since the servants released him when he was clean enough. This wouldn't work. It would make him look frail and easy to destroy. He had to look like someone whose praise would give them strength. Someone they would want to keep. Rubico forced his legs to be strong, keeping himself from trembling. He also dropped his hands and raised his chin a little bit. The fabric covering his hair fell off his shoulders and they whispered even more.

Ahkmenrah's smile widened.

The slave stopped in front of the stairs and slowly kneeled as he was instructed. Kawab was standing on the first step, with his arms crossed and his eyes on the young man. “State the name you were given by your father, stranger.”

The name given by his father? He didn't remember his father at all. Rubico frowned a little bit and thought that, _maybe_ , the closest he ever had to a father figure was Parvus. But then... He hated the idea of having to feel like he ever owed him any love. Fathers were supposed to be caring and look after their kids. And Vesta knows that Parvus was a terrible father to his own children. He was no more than a pet.

He stayed in silence and Kawab even repeated the question, urging him to answer. Ahkmenrah's eyes were still on him, thrilled about the idea of hearing him say something out loud for the first time. And exactly the question that he has been wanting him to answer.

Rubico looked down and thought that the only man he ever loved as much as he would have loved a father was Kyrillos. Kyrillos who taught him everything that he knew. Who looked at him with pride when the boy learned a new skill. Kyrillos who kissed his forehead every night and held his hands when he died, reminding him how important he was and how happy he would be as soon as the burden of slavery would be taken off his shoulders.

And he also remembered the sweet tender name he called him when he was nothing but a child: “ _Leonellus_.”

That would have been a beautiful name. One that he would have wanted to have. One that gave him something else than a distinction about his hair.

“Leonellus of Rome, you are about to be juged by the _only_ true Gods.” Kawab announced. “Do you have anything to say before the ritual begins?”

Rubico shook his head.

Nothing a slave could say would convince the Gods in any sort of way. He could only hope to look strong even if he was kneeling on the ground. Strong men didn't have to kneel. He was not a man. He was a _property_. A gift for a future Pharaoh. No way he was going to survive this.

Priest Hanbar and Priest Jabari commanded the servants to not let the sunshine get inside of the chamber, covering every single window with thick courtains. Rubico could barely see what was happening in front of him. He could only hear them moving over the stairs and leaving a faiance figurine for each God they mentioned:

" _Mut_ " the World-Mother. " _Nut_ " the Mistress of All. " _Khnum_ " the Divine Potter. " _Ptah_ " the Master of Justice. " _Nepthys_ " the Divine Priestess. " _Nekhbet_ " the Lady from Above. " _Sobek_ " the Ruler of the Lake. " _Sekhmet_ " the Red Lady. " _Seker_ " the Protector of the Necropolis. " _Selket_ " the Petrifying Scorpion. " _Resheph_ " the Chief of Ebla. " _Wadjet_ " the Lady from Below. " _Anubis_ " the Lord of the Sacred Land. " _Anukis_ " the One who Embraces. " _Seshmu_ " the Lord of Wine. " _Meshkent_ " the Creator of Souls. " _Hemsut_ " the Lady of Fate. " _Tefnut_ " the First Cloud. " _Heqet_ " the One who Delivers. " _Mafdet_ " the Slayer of Serpents.

Mut, Nut, Khnum and Ptah were right in front of Rubico. Mafdet in front of the Prince, at the top of the stairs. Foolishly, Rubico assumed that those who were closer to him were far easier to please and that Mafdet was a ruthless Goddess who wouldn't doubt before destroying any sort of toxic or poisonous creature that dared to come any close to the heir.

It surely became far more intimidating when all those names were repeated by every single person that was in the chamber with him. His palms turned moist and he rubbed them against the linen over his lap.

“Ra, enlighten us!” they said and raised their hands towards the ceiling.

Rubico followed the movement of their hands and tilted his head up. The opening on the ceiling was discovered and the Sun came inside of the throne room. The only light in complete darkness.

The sunlight found the Eye of Ra over the Pharaoh's royal seat. The solar disk reflected the light as pure crimson. And there was one deity that _always_ craved red for that was her title; _Sekhmet_.

The Lion Goddess, also known as the one who seeked blood. The Goddess of War, Diseases and Revenge. She had other titles such as the Lady of Terror or the Lady of Pestilence. Named the Destroyer, the only one capable to stop her was Ra himself.

One could think that Rubico was simply unlucky but this was not chance. Both priests were supposed to study the Sun. Ra was the highest authority, the most important God of their pantheon. They studied when he raised and when he set, giving him different names and even representations. They chose the day and the time, they knew that Sekhmet would be the one to judge the young slave that couldn't be anything but a bad omen.

Since they couldn't burn him, they will spill his blood on the Goddess' temple to please her.

No one said anything anymore.

Rubico was not sure what kind of judgment could come from Sekhmet, but he did remember what Nephi told him about the Goddess. He had plenty of reasons to be scared.

“No.” Ahkmenrah mumbled. He witnessed Ra's decision and he didn't agree. He stood up and repeated once again, louder: “ _No_.”

“The Gods have spoken.” Kawab replied. “There's nothing we can do to stop them. We must please them.”

“You want to kill my slave.” the Prince frowned. “You two.” he pointed at the priests. “I _accuse_ you.”

“We are only obeying the Gods, Your Majesty.” Priest Jabari said, with a tight smile as he bowed.

“We would never want to go against your wish, Your Majesty.” Priest Hanbar added.

“Well!” Ahkmenrah didn't believe their viper tongues. He began to go downstairs, avoiding all the figurines that were still standing on the steps. “He'll prove you how he earned my favor and therefore, the _Gods_ '.” he rested his hands on Rubico's arms and slowly helped him to stand once again, as he did the first time he saw him. “Come, Leonellus. There's nothing to fear.” his voice was very sweet, but Rubico couldn't help but feel strange when he used the name he gave moments ago.

It's been a long time since that name was used. That would have been his name as a freedman. He wouldn't have kept Parvus' for sure.

Rubico blinked and looked around, realizing what might be coming his way. He nodded a little bit.

“It will be alright.” Ahkmenrah promised. “I will take you to the temple, myself. She will be pleased if she sees you arrive with Apis. She will understand that you are a _friend_.”

Rubico looked at him and then over their shoulders. All those who had been in the throne room followed them, far too curious to miss what was about to happen. Rubico felt like a _human sacrifice_.

The palms of the young heir were very soft over the redhead's arm. He clearly never had to work or do anything with them other than touch precious things. Why would he want to touch _him_ , then? He would rather focus on that foolish question better than wonder what was coming.

Rubico squinted when they walked out of the royal palace, after many _many_ stairs. This was the very first chance he had to see this new land. He couldn't help but think that it was... _beautiful_. And not as arid as he thought it would be. The date palms were tall and twisted, offering narrow shadows. The vegetation was not scarce even if sand was predominant on the landscape. Not very far from the palace, Rubico could see the canals of the Nile getting into the city, providing it with water and plenty of resources to survive. He was sure that the royal house was edificated strategically there because of the river.

The only thing that bothered him was the Sun, a little bit more aggressive than it was back in Rome. That _and_ the warm and pale stone that was burning his feet. Rubico shifted a bit as they simply stood there, rubbing his right foot against his shin. _And_ also, as well, the amount of people that was gathering around the main gates of the palace. He was starting to believe that this city was as crowded as Rome.

“What is it? Are you nervous?” the Prince asked tenderly. It was so odd to hear someone talk to him like that. “You don't have to be.” he repeated once again before he looked down and noticed that the slave was barefoot. “Oh, Leonellus. We'll get you new sandals!” he promised as he used that name _again_.

Weird but not _displeasing_.

Ahkmenrah slipped his hands under his wesekh[2], with clear intentions to remove his cape, so the slave would have something to step on and protect his bare feet from the paved ground. Kawab grabbed him by his arm and hissed: “We are in _public_.”

“He is burning his feet!” the young man huffed. “Look at him, poor thing!”

Rubico tried to stay still and frowned. He was no child that needed help.

“He can wait. So can _you_.” the Vizier insisted, not releasing him. “They are looking at you, they can't see someone _weak_.”

“Is it better to see someone who is heartless?” Ahkmenrah raised an eyebrow.

Kawab hushed him and took a step back.

The Prince sighed and smiled at the people that were looking at them, expectantly. He waved with the hand that was not around Rubico and made them gasp and touch their own mouths. The adoration and submission they had for their future Pharaoh was clear because some of them, those who were the closer —while still being _meters_ away from them—, fell on their knees.

Ahkmenrah smiled a little wider and said: “Maybe someday you'll like me just as much.”

Oh, he doubted it. He doubted that _tremendously_.

Rubico stayed in silence and looked away.

Thankfully, the bull was on his way.

He was led by priests. They kept their hands over the animal's back. They had the very same devotion for Apis[3] as the one shown by the people of the city towards the Prince. Funny thing was they were wearing as much gold. Between the horns of the bull, there was yet another solar disk that drew the difference between the God and another common animal.

The young heir caressed the head of the bull and with his sweet voice, he murmured: “Be still, Shining One.” After that, Ahkmenrah held Rubico's waist and raised him up. While the slave was not used to being helped, he was used to being moved to adapt positions to please others. The bull only huffed a little bit while feeling the light weight of the man over his back. Rubico looked down at Ahkmenrah, who smiled and walked in front of Apis. Rubico stroked the thick skin of the animal, perhaps to relax both of them at the very same time.

Then, they began to walk and it was... odd. All of this was very odd but it became stranger when those who gathered around them began to walk with him. He truly felt like he was about to be sacrificed. Back in Rome, they sacrificed bulls as a way to either ask the Gods for something or to repay them when they've been granted their wish. Considering that Apis was far more sacred than what a foreing slave would ever be, Rubico was sure that they would spill _his_ blood.

Then why did they look so joyful and happy? The adults smiled and kept the distance, but the children sang and ran to be able to keep up with the bull. For sure, they must be really happy to see Apis and their future Pharaoh together even if he was the excuse.

How sad it must be that you don't get to be the protagonist even moments before your own death.

The slave looked down with pure resignation.

*** * ***

The temple of Sekhmet was not as _colossal_ as her consort's, but the Goddess was far more intimidating than Ptah could ever be.

Ahkmenrah stopped right in front of the entry of the temple. Only the two of them would be allowed inside. It would be terribly unwise to tempt the Goddess with a crowd. She might not take it as a submissive plea but as a challenge. And it was known that Sekhmet only became far more brutal and heartless with the excuse of intimidation.

The Prince grabbed him by the waist once again and helped him to get off Apis. Rubico tried his best to comply without touching him and not losing balance. As his feet were once again over the burning stone, he tried his best not to flinch. Assuming that the bull was very important for every single citizen of Men-Nefer[4] and perhaps any person for this land, Rubico inclined a bit in front of Apis, with gratitude. He was sure that without him, the soles of his feet would be swollen or bleeding.

Ahkmenrah cupped the back of Rubico's head and rested his forehead against his. The slave grew a little nervous, looking around and stretching his fingers, not knowing what to do each time he was touched. Kawab stood in front of the crowd but away from them. He raised his chin: _submission_.

Rubico closed his eyes and let him do.

The voice of the Prince sounded different, like he was pleading: “Ra, soothe the Goddess. Keep her from hurting the one I bring into her house.” First comes the only one that can stop her. He was far more reasonable and granted his dynasty their power himself. Then, the real threat: “Sekhmet, use your strength and bravery to protect then one I claimed as mine.”

He was going to die in that temple, wasn't he? Why pray, if not?

The young heir stepped back and put both hands over his waist, standing behind him. As soon as they walked past the threshold and the stone under his feet was not burning, he curled his toes and tried to stop. The Prince felt his fear right away. His fingers held him tighter. “I'll be right here with you. If you are scared, run back to me and no harm will ever reach you.”

Those comforting words seemed to soothe Rubico's insecure heart. He had no other choice, anyway. It was either submit to the Gods or deal with men's wrath. The Vizier made it very clear that he accepted the rules of Egypt or he wouldn't be allowed to stay. And he doubted that would imply ever making it back to Rome.

A slave has no choice; a slave has no free will.

He walked further into the temple that was unusually dark. Rubico could barely see the paintings on the columns and the figures carved on the walls. The statue of Sekhmet brought fear within his frail body. The Goddess was _massive_. She was not standing. She didn't need to do so to kill and butcher. Over her lap there was a large bowl and her lioness eyes looked at him without forgiveness or life.

“Extend your hands.” said a voice. Rubico looked around and finally saw two priests, bald and barefoot, wearing all white. The slave obeyed. “Don't move.” he commanded.

They approached him and the first one held his hands in place. The second brought a bowl that looked just like the one the Goddess had but way smaller and made of gold. There was a red liquid dancing inside of it. It was supposed to be pomegranate juice mixed with beer. Still, the copperish and pungent scent revealed the truth: _blood_.

Rubico tried to fight him but the priest was following orders like a soldier. Priest Hanbar and Priest Jabari commanded that they should use blood. The red slave was a bad omen for their land. If he stays, they will suffer terrible consequences. The boy breathed sharply and tried to release himself. Ahkmenrah could only see that as fear, so he raised his voice: “Be still, Leonellus! Everything will be alright!” he even stood on his tiptoes, looking at him from the previous chamber.

They wanted to kill him and they would do it in front of the naïve eyes of the Prince.

The priests bowed and slowly walked out of the chamber, to stand in the way and so the Prince wouldn't see the events properly. With his hands dripping blood over the ground, Rubico stood there, waiting for something to smite him for that particular scent to catch the attention of The Destroyer.

It was going to be a _carnage_.

In the dark he heard deep vibrating noises and claws scratching the stone. Rubico's heart started to beat faster and faster, gasping and taking a step back. His breathing was now louder the drops of blood kept splashing over the pale stone, telling the beast where he was and how much more it could consume from his body.

Such a frail and defenseless prey that he made.

As soon as he saw the golden and rounded eyes of the lioness shinning in the dark, the slave understood he was doing to die. He swallowed thickly and his knees trembled, about to collapse, unable to run or even turn around. The lioness roared and that caught the Prince's attention. Behind the two priest he could barely see anything, but he tried to make it past them.

He wouldn't be able to save him. There was nothing he could do against a _huntress_. Against the Goddess.

Rubico took a step back the closer the lioness got to him, taking her time, showing her yellow and big fangs. Those would rip his flesh from the bone so easily. It was quite a pity that such a skinny boy would barely be enough to keep her satisfied. He didn't manage to take another; his body and fear betrayed him and he fell to the floor, smearing the blood over his clothes and the floor when he thought about crawling. But she was sniffing his ankles. There was something moist and thick falling over his feet: the lioness' saliva.

The slave never saw any gladiator being devoured by a beast, back home. He wasn't often allowed to go with Parvus to the amphitheater. Maybe that was for the best; he wouldn't know how terrible it was. He laid on his back, closed his eyes and didn't move.

The Goddess became very interested on his hands. She started to lick them and her tongue was rough and scratched his skin. She seemed to be satisfied with the taste but curiously, didn't grow eager or hungry. She roared once again and Rubico trembled. Then, she rested her heavy head over his stomach and _nothing more_.

He barely dared to breathe to not disturb her. Not that he could do it, at least not properly with such weight on his stomach and the threat of being attacked at any moment if he irritated her enough. She rubbed her muzzle against his frail ribs. Her jaw was bigger than his own sternum; still she was trying to obtain some warmth from the pitiful creature that laid underneath her. With a trembling hand and plenty of fear, Rubico caressed her head, between her ears. She let out a loud and appreciative sound. She didn't mind that he stained her golden fur with some blood. She only nosed his armpit to get his other arm around her. The slaved obeyed, not having any other option, still terrified and convinced that she would change her mind within seconds. She would tear his head off his shoulders.

Both priests seemed to be astonished by the miracle they just witnessed. The lioness they kept in the back of the temple was always famished. She never seemed to have enough and now she was passing the chance to soothe her overly demanding appetite. The Prince finally made it past them, grumbling under his breath. Any sort of bad spirit left his body when he saw his newest friend petting and soothing the Lady of Terror. She loved him! She welcomed his presence in their land! He would be able to stay with him forever, now!

“Oh, Leonellus. You are ours.” he tended to say _ours_ when all he wanted to say was _mine_. “He's now victorious! Get Sekhmet off him!” he grabbed one priest and pushed him forward. “Go, come on!” he encouraged him by pushing once again, with childish eagerness.

The priest approached the both of them, pale with fear. Rubico quickly dropped his hands back to the ground as the lioness jumped and roared viciously at the priest. The man quickly started to run before the Goddess chased him like he was nothing but a small mouse.

Rubico let out a shaky breath and a couple of tears escaped the corners of his eyes, disappearing in his hair. He was still stunned and terrified by the whole experience. They almost killed him. They almost killed him and he barely knew how he survived.

Ahkmenrah ran towards him and fell on his knees by his side. “That's it! You have nothing left to fear!” he tenderly helped him to sit down. “You are safe now. You are one of us. The Gods want you here. Sekhmet herself is going to take care of you!” he spoke quickly, holding his face and smiling so wide. The slave was not smiling back as the Prince expected him to. “What's wrong...?” he tilted his head to the side, clearly worried. “You are not hurt.” he stated after he looked at him. “You don't have to be scared anymore. It's _over_ , Leonellus.” he caressed his cheeks with his thumbs.

 _No_. No, it was not over. It was only the beginning. If they wanted to kill him, they would do as much as possible to accomplish that goal. And the young heir, naïve and compassionate as he was, would never be aware of the threat floating around the head of his _now_ favourite slave. Rubico furrowed his eyebrows, missing Rome. Missing Aulus and Numerius. Missing Kyrillos. Missing the idea continuing his days, looking forward to become a freedman. Now, all of that was gone. He whimpered, silently, before more tears rolled down his cheeks, wetting Ahkmenrah's thumbs.

The Prince looked concerned; _heartbroken_ almost. “It... It had to be done, I'm...” he whispered. “I'm terribly sorry.” he apologized. People didn't apologize to slaves because slaves were _not_ people. That only made Rubico cry a little louder, barely allowing his voice to come out of his mouth. “You'll be safe. I promise.” he wrapped his arms around him and cupped the back of his head so he could cry over his shoulder. “You'll be with me.”

The slave kept his hands over his lap, not touching him. He only sobbed and Ahkmenrah whispered soothing words against his temple. He was released only when he regained some pride and leaned back. Ahkmenrah cleaned Rubico's hands, moist with blood and saliva, with his own cape. He graced him with a sweet smile before he helped him to stand up. “They will love you.” Of course they would! They would see the adoration in the young heir's eyes and understand that he deserved respect and kindness.

He walked with him out of the temple, holding his hand. They were still waiting for them, with curious eyes. Kawab sighed and closed his own when he saw that the young slave was still alive. He will become a _distraction_. A _complication_. Not what they needed with an overly spoiled future Pharaoh.

The smiles bloomed on their faces when they saw their Prince so happy and so proud. Ahkmenrah raised Rubico's hand and claimed, loud and proud: “My people, today is a day for celebration!”

Everybody cheered and that was the very first time Rubico was ever celebrated. Ever cherished. Ever created a reaction in other people that was not disgust or indifference. And all because of Ahkmenrah. They loved him so.

How?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 The Sekhemty was the double crown worn by rulers in ancient Egypt. It meant “The Two Powerful Ones”. It combined the White Hedjet Crown of Upper Egypt and the Red Deshret Crown of Lower Egypt. Source: Wikipedia.
> 
> 2 The Usekh or Wesekh is a personal ornament, a type of broad collar or necklace, familiar to many because of its presence in images of the ancient Egyptian elite. Deities, women, and men were depicted wearing this jewellery. Source: Wikipedia.
> 
> 3 Apis or Hapis, alternatively spelled Hapi-ankh, was a sacred bull worshiped in the Memphis region, identified as the son of Hathor, a primary deity in the pantheon of Ancient Egypt. Early on, Apis was the herald (wḥm) of Ptah, the chief deity in the area around Memphis. As a manifestation of Ptah, Apis also was considered to be a symbol of the king, embodying the qualities of kingship. Source: Wikipedia.
> 
> 4 One of the old names given to the city of Memphis. It means “enduring and beautiful”.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My sweet, sweet boy.” she cooed, cupping his face with both of her hands. There was so much pride and love in her eyes. “You look happier than ever tonight.” And she was delighted about that fact.  
> “I am! Haven't you heard?! He passed the Judgment! And it was Sekhmet who graced him with her protection!” Ahkmenrah quickly turned towards Rubico, who struggled to deal with the attention of two members of a royal family. “Look! I adore him already! My most beloved friend: Leonellus!”  
> That was far too much.

The banquet was _impressive_. Bigger than any party Parvus ever made at his own Domus and far more expensive than the riches he ever saw in Rome. This was a land of prosperity and abundance. Rubico felt that he would appreciate it far more if his situation was any different but when he heard the Prince saying that anyone that would approach the palace would be given food and drinks, he couldn't help but think that his heart was good. That maybe he was foolish, young and gullible, but that his heart was in the right place.

The future Pharaoh was endearing, yes. And perhaps he understood what Galeatus meant. But... But he was still a slave with an overly affectionate master. That didn't change anything. Nor the fact that he called him Leonellus or that he claimed him as his _friend_. It was not important or remarkable that he made him sit with him, on the very same throne, made of gold and covered with soft cushions for his comfort. The seat was far too big for only one person and he didn't want him to sit on the floor. “It's your party!” Ahkmenrah beamed as soon as he sat gingerly over the very edge of it.

It goes without saying that the Vizier was awfully displeased. That young man would end up making him lose his mind. But it was known by everybody that the young heir loved parties. He always found the perfect excuse to assemble both music, food, drinks and performers. Since this was a way to celebrate Rubico's victory, it was only normal that the whole festivity was about Sekhmet and her many stories. Kawab would make sure to scold the boy tomorrow morning, as soon as Ra would shine bright above. By now, he left the party refusing to engage in the celebration of an unwanted guest.

Of course, Ahkmenrah didn't even notice his absence. He was far too busy paying attention to his red slave. He smiled as soon as Rubico took a little sip of his beer, tasting it. The beverage was a little thick and lumpy, but tasted sweet. He _liked_ it.

“It's good, isn't it?” There was pride in his voice, almost arrogance, wanting him to understand that his land was far better than Rome would ever be.

Rubico nodded and Ahkmenrah touched the cup so he would take another sip. And in fact, he spent a good part of the night giving him drinks and food. He only ate what the Prince placed on his hands. Both of them knew that Rubico was not free enough to decide what he wanted to eat and when. It was only when he started to reject it by denying or not extending his hands that he stopped. Then Ahkmenrah laid back over the cushions of his throne and played his own goblet. He laughed and cheered at the dancing people in front of him or the different representations of myths and ancient stories. The music was chipper and maybe it was the little alcohol he consumed or the fact he survived the impossible —that might change soon—, but Rubico felt in a rather good mood. He even turned to offer the young heir a small and brief smile at some point when people laughed at pantomimes and jest towards dishonorable figures and idols.

The Prince felt so endeared by that minuscule gesture that gave his goblet to a servant and sat closer to the edge of his throne, wrapping one arm around him. His other hand caressed Rubico's stomach in his way to find his palm over the slave's left hip. His fingers laced over the fabric of his tunic and rested his chin over Rubico's right shoulder. He could smell him: a small touch of _salt_. He cried and sweated when Sekhmet judged him. He fisted his pale hands over his lap and tried to not bother him by not moving too much. His new friend was terribly _sweet_.

“Do you know that Hathor and Sekhmet are the same Goddess?” he explained, looking at both dancers that aimed to entertain him and all of his guests. Both women wore helmets made of gold: one was a cow, the other was a lion. They danced in front of each other, mirroring their movements, swaying in opposites sides. The same, but with nothing in common. Rubico shook his head. “Hathor is the Sky. The Moon. The Stars. The Sun when is gentle.” he explained and the slave noticed that the woman with the cow head was far more delicate, she moved slower in a more tempting way, touching her chest and her hips. “She's the Goddess of Love, of Joy, of Everything that is Good.”

Rubico nodded slightly. So she must be like Venus. Maybe a little kinder and less lustful. Or perhaps just as much but with the gentle sound of laughter between each whimper and moan.

“But when Ra saw that there were men rebelling against his orders, he told the Gentle Hathor to stop them. She became Sekhmet the Destroyer, Lady of Pestilence, Terror and Violence. She slayed his enemies and fell in love with war and blood.” The movements of the lion were far sharper, something more similar to fighting than dancing. “And not even Ra could stop her anymore. So he tricked her. Do you know why they soaked your hands during the ritual?” Rubico shook his head. “It was beer with pomegranate juice.” It _wasn't_ , but Rubico didn't break his silence. “She craved blood and he tricked her into thinking that it was. She drank for three days and three nights and she finally passed out.” the corners of his lips raised. “And when she woke up, the first one he saw was Ptah. She fell madly in love with him.” he nuzzled his nose against the slave's shoulder. “I guess no matter how different you can be, you can always fall in love.” Such mysterious feeling! He felt it and the very same time, he was always told that it was far from it.

Rubico wouldn't really know what to answer to do that, so he only looked at him with his green eyes.

Ahkmenrah smiled a little wider and chirped: “We could say that you've been blessed by the Goddess of Love, as well.”

He thought about Galeatus for the second time that evening: _Venus truly didn't bless you. There's no love in you_.

The slave denied.

“No?” Ahkmenrah chuckled. “How so?”

Rubico shrugged one shoulder and denied again. He was not ready to break his vow of silence. He was still angry at this situation even if the happiness of the Prince was somehow contagious.

“Oh, I believe I know about _my_ Gods more than you do!” he smiled, playful, and tried to get closer to him, now properly wrapping his arms around Rubico's waist, squeezing him against his chest.

It was hard not to touch him in such positions and when the young heir was so... _effusive_.

But horns could be heard and someone _majestic_ was about to join the party. Ahkmenrah released him and quickly stood up, bouncing a little bit. When Rubico was about to do the same, he rested a hand on his shoulder, his smile full of love and adoration. Everybody bowed and showed nothing but respect towards the Great Royal Wife. Shepseheret was rather short, with tanned skin, big brown eyes and a graceful bearing. Her clothes, just like anyone's in that warm and beautiful land, were white and thin, adorned with plenty of gold; on her arms and over her head, as well. Her wig barely moved over her shoulders, framing her full cheeks for she was smiling so wide when she saw her son.

“Ahkmen.” she said so sweetly.

“Mother, mother!” he even stretched his arms towards her before she reached them. As soon as she was close enough, he embraced her tightly.

Rubico observed them and thought that as long as his mother was be alive, he would always have someone to turn to and give him some advice. The Prince was young, but surely he could still learn plenty from his parents.

“My sweet, sweet boy.” she cooed, cupping his face with both of her hands. There was so much pride and love in her eyes. “You look happier than ever tonight.” And she was delighted about that fact.

“I am! Haven't you heard?! He passed the Judgment! And it was Sekhmet who graced him with her protection!” Ahkmenrah quickly turned towards Rubico, who struggled to deal with the attention of two members of a royal family. “Look! I adore him already! My most beloved friend: Leonellus!”

That was _far_ too much.

Shepseheret looked down at him and let out a small and appreciative hum. _Oh, that's rather nice_. Ahkmenrah held Rubico's hand made him stand up. The Great Royal Wife took his place on the throne and the Prince sat down by her side. The slave assumed that he would have to stand by their side, but he sighed mortified when Ahkmenrah sat him down on his lap.

“He comes from Rome. Nephi brought him.” he explained briefly. “We are good friends, now.”

Rubico never had friends. This was not different.

“He looks very sweet.” Shepseheret agreed, caressing the slave's cheek with the back of her back. He bit his lip and looked down. “A little shy, maybe?”

He was not shy. He was only overwhelmed. This situation made no sense.

“He is.” Ahkmenrah nodded. “He never says a word.” Well, only one: what the Prince assumed that was his name.

“He can't?” the woman touched his chin, lifting his head so she could take a proper look at him.

“Yes, he can. He is still not comfortable enough to say anything. It's alright! We shouldn't rush him!”

“You are right.” she nodded. “But you shouldn't dress him like _this_.” she touched his white long tunic. “He's far too pale for white. Poor boy, he looks all sick!”

Ahkmenrah blinked and noticed that the boy's wrists were as pale as the linen covering his thighs. “Oh...” he mumbled, caressing the soft skin right under his palm, over his veins. There was a faint of green, even. “Yes, absolutely.” It was not a good look. He wanted him to look healthy and strong. “Maybe he should wear red, like his hair. It's a beautiful color.”

“My sweet, I'm not sure about that.”

“It will be alright! Sekhmet is the Red Lady. It's what she would want.” Shepseheret gave in rather easily. “Do you like red, Leonellus?” he looked up at him.

Rubico nodded. He didn't mind. But red would catch plenty of attentions. He would rather wear brown, as he did back in Rome.

“Perfect, then!” she congratulated her son for such marvellous idea. For sure she was very supportive.

“And I think it makes sense. Kawab said that his name was _Deshret_.”

“He wouldn't survive there.” Shepseheret shook her head.

“That's what I said! But I don't mind. That means I will only get to call him by his true name.” That wasn't his true name. It was an endearing nickname. “Makes me feel _special_.” Ahkmenrah admitted with a small and happy smile.

Rubico blinked and looked down at him, not knowing how he felt about it. Not bad. Not angry. But he was still not speaking, so maybe he was not pleased either. It was complicated. It was practically impossible to get mad at him even when he made him sit down on his lap in the presence of his mother.

“You are _very_ special.” she smiled, caressing his hair.

Ahkmenrah leaned against his mother's touch and Rubico continued to observe them as they spoke. She was never pushing him to do anything. She was so unlike Urbinia. She didn't raise her voice and she didn't seem to be fond of violence. He would have wanted Aulus and Numerius to have such a loving mother. Rubico looked down and played with his hands, still feeling sad each time he thought about them.

“Kawab left the party, did you notice?” Shepseheret asked.

“Oh, did he?” Ahkmenrah raised his eyebrows, looking around. “Why?”

“Maybe he's tired of you not listening to him.”

“He dislikes Leonellus because he assumes that it was Set who sent him.” he huffed. “It was not Set, it was just _Nephi_.”

“Surely it's not that. You know he's worried because you get distracted easily.”

“It's not true!” he huffed.

Shepseheret smiled, knowing her son better than anyone else. Better than himself.

The Prince pouted and mumbled: “Maybe only a little bit. But I would pay more attention to him if he stopped asking me to get _married_.” The whole idea seemed to be despicable by the way he pronounced the last word.

“I don't think that's going to happen anymore.” Shepseheret smiled and looked at Rubico.

The slave felt shy and confused with the implication. He was not that kind of slave. He was not going to entertain the future Pharaoh with his hands and his mouth. That's _for sure_.

Ahkmenrah did not catch the meaning behind his mother's words before she kept speaking: “And since you don't get distracted easily... You'll be able to tell me where's your little monkey, won't you?”

Rubico felt him become tense under his body. “Uh...” he babbled, trying to remember the last time he saw his pet. “Yes, I just...” he swallowed. _Where was Idu?_ No one could ever say that the Prince was very _responsible_. “I might..:” he placed his hands on the slave's hips and stood up. “I need to leave for a moment, I just... remembered something.” He sat Rubico down by his mother's side, over the throne. “I... Bye!” he quickly turned and ran away, cursing under his breath.

He clearly lost the monkey.

But he was left alone there. With a woman who had as much power as a Queen. Sitting where he didn't belong. Rubico began to feel more and more anxious, not daring to stand up but not daring to stay there, either.

The slave expected a punishment. For her to ask a servant to bring her a whip, as the Domina did back home. He wouldn't mind. He was used to it. Better that than being sent back to Sekhmet's temple.

Shepseheret cupped his chin and made him look at her. “You will have to help him.” she looked serious. “My son has been blessed with the purest heart and most noble mind. He is incapable of seeing any darkness in others. Slaves are used to cruelty and malice. You can tell who is going to be cruel to you. You've been there before, haven't you?”

Rubico gingerly nodded.

“You'll have to the be one to guide him. To protect him. See the bad so can keep seeing the good.” she made sure to find his eyes with her own. “Are you loyal?”

He liked to think that he was. But he doubted that saying no would bring him any good. He nodded again.

“Good.” Shepseheret smiled as she squeezed his chin. “Now tell me about you.”

He didn't know if he would dare to deny her anything. He was in no position. While he was rebelling against the Prince by not speaking to him, he was not sure if he was daring to be that bold or that brave.

Rubico parted his lips but it was not him who spoke.

“I see that nowadays anyone can sit on the throne.” the voice was a hissing noise. Not a song like when Ahkmenrah spoke. This was a snake not a hummingbird.

“It's a party, Kahmunrah, there's no need to be spiteful.” Shepseheret interrupted him.

The man stood in front of them, not very tall but with squared shoulders. Rubico didn't miss the detail that while everybody stopped the party to greet Shepseheret, no one did so to introduce the eldest brother. “I'm merely surprised that an usurper and a slave are now allowed to sit on my father's throne.” she held Rubico's hand as a way to tell him to stay there. “I would say that your son could improve his judgment. He will bring ruin to our kingdom.”

“He is your brother. I wouldn't speak about him like he was nothing but a stranger.” she seemed to feel far more insulted about what he said about her son than what he said about her.

“He's only my half-brother, Shepseheret. I think you know that well enough.”

“No matter which problems you have with me, he is still blood of your blood. And you shall respect him and be by his side when he might need you to.”

“With Kawab having such a good health I doubt I'll ever be Vizier any time soon.” Rubico still didn't know that the position of the advisor of the Pharaoh was reserved also for members of the royal family. Kawab was Merenkahre's cousin. “And I was promised the throne. It's me who should be Pharaoh.”

To Rubico, it made sense. He was clearly older than Ahkmenrah. While the boy was barely twenty and Kahmunrah seemed to be in his mid thirties, at least.

“None of that matters now.” Shepseheret denied. “Pharaoh said that your brother will rule. And you shall be by his side. Be satisfied, Kahmunrah. He trusts you. Don't betray him.”

“Like my father betrayed my mother?” Kahmunrah tensed his jaw.

“You might think whatever you want, but you know that Pharaoh and I never saw each other behind your mother's back.”

Rubico didn't think he should be witnessing this discussion at all.

“Then how come someone can marry another _days_ after the death of a beloved wife?” he accused her.

Shepseheret didn't answer him. She looked graceful, like she had far more dignity than what he was trying to imply. “Would that be all?” she said as she stood up.

Kahmunrah seemed to be about to keep talking but she merely walked away. The hatred in his eyes could only come from the deepest pits of suffering. From a boy that was promised everything until his father married again and decided to forget about him to favor his youngest son and new wife. Now he grew old and became a revengeful man. The guilt may be another's but the rage was his.

When he saw that the pitiful slave —pale, scrawny and doubtul— was still on his throne, he felt _repulsion_. It was like anyone could take that seat before him. Even some rat from Rome. Kahmunrah grabbed Rubico's arm forcefully, touching his fingers with his thumb for he was only skin and bones. He threw him to the floor without needing more strength than the one provided by one hand, only.

Rubico landed over the marble and groaned. Solid and unforgiving, it welcomed him with the promise of bruises over his hip and ribs. The red slave looked down and said _nothing_. He only pressed his lips when Kahmunrah spat _That's where you belong_ before he left.

Rubico already saw _the bad_.

He decided to stay there and looked at all the people that were celebrating him. They were all happy except him. No one approached to speak to him or looked at him at any moment. So, were they really? They only seemed to care about the Prince when he came back, with the little monkey on his left shoulder. He smiled and nodded when they praised him in his way to go back to his new friend. As soon as he saw he saw Rubico on the floor, he walked a little faster and crouched: “What are you doing on the floor? Come on, stand up.” he held his arms, far more caring and tender than the older brother.

Rubico shook his head and forced his arms down. He was not going to sit where he didn't belong. It was not worth it and made him look power-hungry. He _wasn't_.

“You can't sit on the floor. That's no place for _you_.” the Prince tried to convince him. He knew so little about slaves. Either that or the slaves of Egypt were very different from the Romans'. “Talk to me, Leonellus. Why would anyone want to sit on the _floor_?” he implored as he kneeled in front of him. Those who saw him began to quiet down. If Ahkmenrah noticed or not was not clear because he paid them no attention. “ _Tell me_.” for the very first time, his voice sounded authoritarian.

Rubico considered there was no way to answer that question. Why some are allowed to sit on thrones and others are forced to sit on the floor? Well. It was beyond his comprehension. Some were borns slaves, some were born royals. He looked at Ahkmenrah's eyes; big and grey as they were, full of curiosity and tenderness. He frowned and shook his head, looking down. Rubico stood up abruptly and touched his chest. Then he extended his hand towards the door. He wished to leave. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to sleep.

The Prince accepted his defeat and rose. “Someone will walk you back to your chambers.”

Those weren't chambers. More like a hole in a wall.

*** * ***

In the middle of the night, Priest Hanbar opened the door of the room where they kept the slave. His feet were dirty after walking barefoot during the whole day. He used his own arm as a pillow while laying on his side. He breathed evenly, undoubtedly sleeping, not needing the comfirmation offered by the moonlight over his cheeks and nose.

“Now.” he nodded and opened the door some more and Priest Jabari opened the wicker basket with trembling hands. Then he made a quick and rushed movement, dumping what was inside before they closed the door, keeping it from escaping.

The snake would protect the Pharaoh[1] from evil and the asp would kill the slave before he would bring them any problem. No messenger from Set will disturb the peace of the realm. Deshret would never overpower Kemet.

Rubico, fast asleep, failed to notice the repile that was dragging its body towards his, seeing in him a threat and an invader. He breathed evenly, only being capable of feeling calm while he was unconscious and unable to overthink about his own situation in this new land. He rubbed his cheek against his forearm and then felt something light and ticklish on his ankles. Thinking that it would be either a fly or a flea, he rubbed his toes against it and then heard it: a threatening hiss.

He sat down and held his knees close to his chest. The room as dark and he could only see what was enlightened by the moonlight, that was barely a straight line ahead over his feet. The asp hissed in the dark once again, about to attack.

Rubico didn't have much time to think. He only got on his feet and jumped over the snake, opening the door and walking out of the room, confining the predator inside. The priests failed to cover that detail. They should have locked him inside. They should have stayed, as well, to get rid of any sort of evidence instead of going to sleep and leaving that issue for the following morning. Sloth corrupted their ambition.

The slave ran away from the snake, to alarm others in case that it would escape. Rubico didn't know much about snakes but he knew that they _could_ be poisonous. They could kill. So he ran, with his heart beating loudly against his chest and panting for air. The palace was enormous and he didn't know where the Prince slept. He could only imagine that the more guards he would see, the closer he would be. But the more guards he saw, the more guards saw _him_. He was stopped and grabbed by the arm by one of them.

“Stop!” he was ordered. “You don't belong here, slave! Go back to your room.”

Rubico shook his head and tried to release himself.

No, he couldn't go back. It would attack him again. Or worse, it could escape and then he would be blamed if it hurt anyone. And then he was sure they would burn him alive.

“Enough of this!” another guard joined them as a couple more observed them from their position. “You shall obey, is that understood?” he grabbed him by the other arm and they raised him, dragging him back towards the corridor.

Rubico whimpered and kicked the air when they raised him up, not even giving him the chance to walk since he clearly wouldn't do it willingly.

“No!” Rubico finally gasped. “Prince! Ahkmenrah!” he begged. If he had to break his silence to stay alive then... Maybe it would be worth it.

The guards stopped and visibly doubted. They looked at each other, not knowing if they should disturb the young heir.

One of them shook his head. “Whatever that it is, it can wait until tomorrow.”

“No, please! Please!” Rubico tried to fight them as they raised him once again. He whimpered and struggled until a door opened and it was the eldest who came out, with a sour face and clearly angry about the noise.

“You!” he pointed at the three people guilty of waking him up.

The guards dropped Rubico and quickly kneeled. “We apologize, Haty-a[2].”

“The slave was trying to get to the Iry-pat[3]. We didn't want to disturb him.”

That little explanation frustrated Kahmurah for it reminded him that he was beneath his brother only by those two titles that were mentioned. Ahkmunrah was the crown prince and he wasn't. The least thing he could do after the offense was to interrupt his little brother's night with a scared and whimpering Roman boy.

“I'll take care of it.” he grabbed Rubico by the back of his white tunic and pulled up, either giving him the chance to obey or get suffocated by the linen pressing against his throat. “Come with me, Deshret.” he heard the name from other people's lips. Little he cared if that was his real name or not.

Rubico decided that he didn't mind as long as he would get to speak with the Prince.

No one stopped Kahmunrah when they saw him approaching the royal chambers because, in a way, he _belonged_ there. He slammed his fist against the door under the curious eyes of the guards that were on each side. They said nothing as he kept banging the doors.

It took about five minutes for the door to open a little bit, revealing a clearly sleepy Ahkmenrah. “Gods, Kahmunrah, what is it?” he drawled, with his hair all messy and his eyelids heavy. “Ra is not even up in the sky...” he mumbled, heavily leaning against the door, his body warm and pleasantly flushed over his bare chest and shoulders. Then he saw his newest friend and smiled in such a dopey way. “ _Leonellus_.” he was about to reach out and caress his pale cheek when Kahmurah shoved the slave forward.

“You deal with your property. _It_ was making such a fuss.” he claimed before he closed the door for him.

Ahkmenrah was still tremendously confused and very sleepy. So he only sighed and wrapped his arms around him, with his cheek over his shoulder. “Let's sleep a little more, Leonellus. I'll be good. No need to be scared.” he hummed, closing his eyes once again.

Rubico didn't even waste the time to look around or to indulge in the Prince's demands, he pushed him away and said, looking at him: “ _Snake_.”

Ahkmenrah blinked a little bit and smiled. He said another word! Oh, that was sweet! Even if he was not very sure if he was insulting him. The young heir decided to joke a little and say: “Who? Me or my brother?”

“My room!”

He frowned a little bit. “A snake _in_ your room? Impossible! There are cats all over the palace!” he cupped Rubico's face. “I'm sure it was a nightmare. You are still scared, aren't you?”

The slave only felt more frustrated when he spoke at him like he was a little boy. It was not a nightmare. He knew what he saw; not too clearly but it hasn't been a nightmare. Since Ahkmenrah was barely wearing anything, only a loincloth, and he was still not allowed to touch him, Rubico walked behind him and pushed him slightly forward with his wrists instead of using his hands.

“You want to show me?” he chuckled a little bit. “Alright. You'll see there's nothing to fear.”

Rubico led him back towards his room and the first thing Ahkmenrah said that he was way too far from him. And that that part of the palace wasn't even _that_ beautiful. The slave only touched the door so he would open it and prove him that he had been very much awake when it happened.

Ahkmanrah smiled like he knew what was about to happen. Like he was about to open the door to find an empty room. “If there isn't a snake in here, you'll have to talk more often to me. Deal?”

Rubico touched the door again and frowned, deciding to cling onto his vow of silence now more than ever. Moments ago he had been scared of coming back or the asp hurting anyone, but right now it was more important for him to prove that he was no liar.

“Alright.” the Prince snickered and opened the door. The amusement didn't last long. The was greeted with the sight of an angry snake that hissed and tried to attack him as soon as it saw him. Ahkmenrah was lucky enough to slam the door shut before it could happen. “Oh, Set!” Ahkmenrah gasped and put a hand on his chest, startled. He took a step away from the door and turned around and a few names escaped his lips like curses: “Ammit! Apep!” He huffed and closed his eyes, his heart still right on his throat. That didn't seem to be enough and finally added: “ _Fuck_!”

Rubico looked at him with a face that clearly said _I told you so_.

*** * ***

“Who would do something like that?!” Ahkmenrah was fumming. They returned back to his room while the guards brought the cats to chase and hopefully kill the snake. He was clearly about to do something since he was getting dressed. The only ones he still had around his chambers were the ones that he wore before the banquet, when Rubico was _judged_.

The red slave was a little bit distracted, looking around. Well, he never saw such beautiful place in his life. The walls were covered with beautiful carvings that honored the Prince in different situations. Ra, Horus and Ptah seemed to guard and protect him, for they interacted with the young heir in these fictional settings, supporting his decisions and teaching him how to become a great Pharaoh. He had in there everything that he could want or need. He had papyrus scrolls piled up in the corner of the room, with palettes and ink over a small table where he could write and project his thoughts or for some scribe to use when he only felt like speaking.

He could also bathe if he wished to and whenever he saw fit. The stairs of the room descended into the canal of the Nile, the marble disappearing into it and becoming extremely slippery. It also helped at night to make it colder and allow the wind to come inside of the room. The only drawback was that they would have to allow the cats inside from time to time if a frog ever decided that the royal chambers were a nice place to stay the night.

The bed was made of wood and slightly curved in the middle, so there wouldn't be any chance that the Prince would fall to the ground. It was covered with a thin and soft mattress that would make it far more comfortable for him to lay on. There were blue and golden cushions and even a light blanket hanging from the edge of it. And, over the wall, there was the painting of tall papyrus palms that extended like a fan, all bright green and vibrant. A beautiful painting for sure but that couldn't distract anyone from seeing the tablet made of gold on top of it. Rubico blinked and couldn't help but take a step forward, approaching it. He didn't extend his hand to touch it. He only squinted trying to read it. The tablet was crowned with the painting of a moon disk. The slave didn't understand why. All the deities that guarded the Pharaoh were usually related to the Sun for he was the Morning and Evening Star.

Rubico continued to observe as Ahkmenrah got dressed. As he wore his cape over his shoulders, he noticed the red stains on it. He sighed, not remembering that he cleaned the Roman's hands with it. He tried to brush it a little bit but the fabric was crunchy and smelt... bitter. He frowned a bit and brought it to his nose, sniffing it. It surely didn't smell like beer or pomegranates. More like...

“Leonellus.” he called, turning around. “Leonellus, I need to ask you something.” he held his shoulder to make him look at him. The slave tilted his head. “When the priests soaked your hands, was it... _blood_ what they used?”

He blinked a couple of times and frowned a bit. Should he answer that? Ahkmenrah didn't let him look down, holding his chin in place with his finger and his thumb. Rubico licked his lips and nodded.

“ _Right_.” he said before he tensed his jaw. Ahkmenrah didn't finish wearing all the items he was supposed to before leaving his room. “Come with me, I'll make sure you'll never have to fear for your life ever again.” he held his hand and laced their fingers together before he walked out. The guards were still impressed that one slave could start such ruckus.

What would he do, young and naïve as he was?

It was also the night of knocking on doors. Ahkmenrah was far less violent than his brother but just as demanding. He stepped back and waited, looking visibly tense. Rubico didn't mean to create any of this. He only showed him the snake because he wanted to prove himself right. He couldn't help but gaze at the Prince a little worried and not sure that this would end well for him. When Ahkmenrah caught those pretty green eyes on him squeezed his hand and pressed a kiss against his hair, keeping him close to him.

Kawab looked tired and far from amused about this visit. “I need your presence.” Ahkmenrah said before he could speak. “ _Right now_.”

“The Moon still travels over the sky, Your Majesty. I'm surely it can _wait_.” he was still eloquent even if mad and still bitter about everything that happened after Rubico's judgment.

“I'm about to banish Priest Hanbar and Priest Jabari from the palace. It _can't_ wait.” Ahkmenrah firmly stated.

“What?” Kawab frowned, opening the door a little more. Thanfully he wore more clothes than the Prince did. “You can't make such st—”

“I accuse them. I'm wearing the evidence. They are not longer welcome under _my_ roof.” Ahkmenrah took a step forward and Rubico hid a little bit behind him. “They tried to kill Leonellus _twice_ today.”

Kawab frowned some more and looked at the slave. He only tried to make himself smaller behind the young heir. Their hands were laced together. He knew he would be a distraction. A terrible one. But he didn't quite expect him to have so much power over the Prince _so soon_. “He might be speaking lies.”

“He hasn't spoken a word against them. It's me who noticed their schemes.” Ahkmenrah hushed him. “You have no opinion over this, but you must be there when I send them away. And you _will_ be.”

“I won't let you do that.” Kawab shook his head.

Ahkmenrah raised his chin and he became authoritarian for the second time. It was still as _strange_. “What are _you_ , Kawab?”

The older man blinked and seemed to take it as an offense. But then he swallowed and replied, lowly: “ _Vizier_.”

“And what am _I_?” Ahkmenrah insisted.

“You _shall_ be Pharaoh.” he wasn't yet. And perhaps that would be the only way to stop him from doing this.

The boy rested his free hand over the door and leaned in: “When it comes to his protection, I _am_ Pharaoh.”

Kawab looked over Ahkmenrah's shoulder at the slave. He only looked at the floor and said _nothing_. He will be more than a complication. He might become the lips that comand the future ruler of their land when they were alone.

“Of course.” Kawab eventually agreed. “Give me a moment and I will join you.”

Ahkmenrah nodded and stepped back, giving him the time that he needed. When he turned to look at Rubico, he smiled tenderly and caressed his knuckles with his thumb.

Young and naïve, he was still _powerful_.

*** * ***

“From now and on, you are servants in the Place of Truth[4]. And you are never allowed to come back to the palace.” Ahkmenrah sentenced.

Both priests looked at him, staggered. None of them ever expected the Prince to find out and for the slave to be so damn hard to kill.

“B-but...” Priest Hanbar began. “We don't know anything about any snake, Your Majesty.”

“We were sleeping when all of this happened.” Priest Jabari smiled tightly, his hands were shaking.

“I can't prove you put the snake in Leonellus' room.” Ahkmenrah looked awfully calm. “But I can prove your plans to entice Sekhmet with fresh blood instead of beer and pomegranate juice.”

Both of them fell silent once again. Kawab frowned and crossed his arms, finally paying attention.

Ahkmenrah raised his cape and showed the red stain over the rich fabric. “When we were in the temple, after Sekhmet decided to protect Leonellus, I cleaned his hands with my own clothes. Kawab, would you do me a favor and tell me if this smells like beer or pomegranates to you?”

The Vizier took step forward and sniffed the evidence: bitter and unmistakable. “ _No_.”

“Would you say it smells like blood?”

“Yes.” Kawab was an honorable man. He would _never_ lie to get away with something he wanted for his personal benefit.

“We weren't there!” Priest Hanbar protested.

The Prince looked back at the priests and smiled, small and far from joyful. “Don't waste your time with excuses. Those men follow your orders. Not anymore. Take your things with you and leave with discretion. I don't wish my father to deal with this situation.”

“You are not Pharaoh, yet! You can't take this decision for him!” Priest Jabari decided to answer, making a terrible mistake.

Ahkmenrah took a step forward. The boy was far from violent, but there was rage behind his grey eyes and in his tight jaw. Kawab held his right arm. “You should be _pleased_ that I'm not demanding more from any of you. I should put you through the same misery as you did with Leonellus. You think I would show mercy while seeing you being devoured by Sekhmet?” There was no time for another answer, Ahkmenrah hissed a very clear: “ _No_.”

Priest Jabari stepped back, bumping into Priest Hanbar, clearly scared by the gruesome punishment.

“Anyone who ever tries to hurt Leonellus will have to deal with my _anger_.” That seemed to be mystery for many. The Prince was a joyful man. This was something completely new. “He is a _guest_ , he is a _friend_.” He was only a slave and clearly the Prince fell in love, perhaps, with how different looked or how quiet he was. “And he shall not be harmed or threatened, for this is his home, now.”

Kawab looked at the slave and understood that this relationship, with time, would become a problem. It already was and the boy arrived two days ago.

Rubico, who tried to ignore all of this to not make it any worse, finally stepped forward and while he didn't touch the Prince with his hands, he stepped a bit over his toes with his bare foot to catch his attention. Ahkmenrah quickly turned his head and looked at him. He smiled, sheepishly. “Too much, wasn't it?”

Rubico smiled briefly and nodded. No need to get so angry about this. He was, after all, only a slave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Cobras were a symbol of protection and royal authority in Ancient Egypt. They were also used as a symbol of sovereignty, royalty, deity and divine authority in ancient Egypt, strictly related to Pharaohs. Source: Wikipedia.
> 
> 2 Ḥaty-a was an ancient Egyptian rank and title given to local princes, mayors, or governors. In strings of ranking titles Ḥaty-a most often appears between the ranking titles Iry-pat and Khetemty-bity (royal sealer) and was therefore a sign of an extremely high status in the ranking of officials in Ancient Egypt. Source: Wikipedia.
> 
> 3 Iry-pat was an ancient Egyptian ranking title, that is a title announcing a high position in the hierarchy of the country. The title was often the crown prince and the title announced that the holder was the second ruler in the country. It is therefore sometimes translated as Hereditary or Crown Prince. Source: Wikipedia.
> 
> 4 The Place of Truth (or Set-Ma’at) could be found in Thebes. There lived those who built and decorated the royal tombs in the nearby Valley of the Kings and Valley of the Queens. In this context, the Priests would see this as being downgraded and banished.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your silence is killing me.” Rubico rolled his eyes a little bit and the Prince huffed. “It is! It's killing me! I want to become your friend so bad and you won't speak to me. Ever!” he did pronounce a few words, but not much more than that. He didn't even tell him the names of the three cats. “I'd do anything to hear your sweet voice!” he sat down properly and held the redhead's hand with both of his. “It's on you. Only you can stop this. So please, release my heart from torment.” he practically pleaded. “I'll die if you don't!”  
> That was the most ridiculous thing he ever heart in his life. A Prince worried because a slave is not speaking to him? That's stupid. Rubico was pretty sure that he was not suffering but that the boy never experienced anyone doing something that was not exactly what he wanted from them, before.  
> “Die, then.” Rubico finally replied, his voice clear and even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be posted on January the 10th. See you all after Christmas! :D

Ahkmenrah left him alone in his chambers. He promised that he would be back after speaking to his father with, apparently, _plenty of presents to cheer him up_. Rubico was not sad. Perhaps he was scared because they actually tried to kill him _twice_ during the same day, but those who were his enemies had been sent away. _Apparently_ , he had nothing left to fear.

He played with his fingers and didn't dare to touch anything. Not even _himself_. The makeup that was applied that previous morning was smuged after dealing with a lioness, a party and a snake. The white tunic got a little dirty because he was forced to sleep on the floor but surely it was not any dirtier than his feet. Rubico thought about washing himself with the water of the river. He had nothing to wear other than his filthy clothes and he refused to get caught naked in a Prince's room. He was not _that_ kind of slave. They already hated him enough to also assume he was trying to manipulate him through sex.

So, after denying himself any sort of entertainment or rest —he was _exhausted_ —, Rubico spent plenty of time observing and trying to decode the tablet that captured his attention last night.

It was hard to tell how much time he spent there, merely standing, but he was so entranced and so curious that he barely heard Ahkmenrah walking inside of the room when he returned.

The Prince left the wicker basket —this one didn't contain an asp— and the new clothes over the bed. He rested a hand on his shoulder and the slave bounced, startled after everything that happened to him yesterday. Ahkmenrah smiled sheepishly and raised both hands, to show him he meant no harm. “I didn't mean to scare you.” Rubico nodded briefly. “Beautiful, isn't it?” The slave nodded for the second time. “I'm very fond of it. My father had it forged when I was born. He told me that it holds plenty of secrets, but between you and I, I think it's only decoration.” he sounded amused. “Still... the more you look at it, the more... strange it becomes. More unique. In appearance, it's so... common and yet... so _mysterious_.” Ahkmenrah mumbled, the words began to lose meaning the more he looked at Rubico, from his eyes to his lips.

The redhead looked behind him, over his shoulder. He saw the basket, first. When he looked back at Ahkmenrah, he touched his own chest, lightly: _For me?_

“Yes!” the Prince beamed. “You'll love my presents, I'm sure.”

He looked very excited. Almost like he was the one that would get them. The slave nodded as Ahkmenrah sat on his bed. Aware of his dirty state, Rubico decided to kneel on the floor, to not smear the dirt he carried on his tunic over the sheets. Ahkmenrah left the basket over the redhead's lap and and smiled while keeping his eyes on him and bit his lower lip.

He carefully brushed the blanket that covered the basket to the side. Ahkmenrah has been kind and even tender with him, but he still couldn't forget the fact that he almost lost his life twice the previous day. His fingers trembled slightly but the fear vanished and a sweet and soft smile appeared over his lips. Three little kittens were inside, laying over soft linen and curled close to each other to stay warm, sleeping.

Rubico couldn't help himself, he _cooed_.

With only one hand he could almost caress the three of them at once. The tips of his fingers brushed over the fur of a pale and tabby cat. Close to that one there was a little orange ball framed by the third kitten, that was all black.

“A guard found them around the palace,” And each time they were found they were allowed inside to keep the corridors and rooms free from pests and unwanted guests. “without mothers or other siblings, so I thought that they could use some protection...” Ahkmenrah explained. “And so you do!” Rubico tilted his head, curiously. “No snake will ever attack you when you are being protected by three noble cats!” Maybe, but by now they were far too young. “Also I thought they would always keep you company and...” he shrugged. “That they would make you _happy_.”

Rubico smiled up at him. Well, the Prince did have a good heart. He appreciated the gesture, so he nodded with gratitude.

“And!” Ahkmenrah quickly brightened up, like a young and vivid flame. “You'll have to name them. The _three_ of them. And let me know about their names.” A good way to start talking, right? “The ginger is a girl. The other two are boys.” he let him know before he stood up and sat down on the floor by his side. Ahkmenrah looked at Rubico for a second and licked his lips with another grin, a little bashful this time. “I wanted to get you a cub, but my parents said it wouldn't be very wise. You already tamed Sekhmet, so it made sense.” The slave was rather happy that his parents forced some common sense into the Prince. “But I am sure that Bastet likes you just as much.” he slipped his hand inside of the basket too, playing with the tabby kitten's paw. “One of our scribes told me that Leonellus means _little lion_. It makes so much sense now.” he cleared his throat briefly. “But he also said it's _Greek_. And you are _Roman_.” The redhead nodded. Ahkmenrah landed his grey eyes on him once again and continued, a little doubtful: “So it's a lie or there's a story behind it...?”

While his silence began as a rebellion and continued as stubborness, now it felt like it would be what would keep him safe in this land. But the Prince was clearly trying to get to know him. And once he gets tired of him and his silence, he would lose his favor. Only the Gods —the ones from Egypt, the ones from Rome— know what would happen to him, then.

Rubico parted his lips and then he only sighed. He offered Ahkmenrah a tired smile.

And maybe that's when Ahkmenrah saw it: a very long journey. The slave's cheeks had no color other than the redness caught after spending so little time under the Sun; no innocence, only pain. His eyes were rimmed with black and now all smeared and smudged over his cheeks. His tunic was dirty and hanging off his left shoulder. His lips were pale and his soul... His soul was so old and so tired. He had a story before meeting him. Something Ahkmenrah ached to know. After something so simple as his name there was a whole conflict. He must be good to him and make him feel at home so he will be able to stop suffering.

“Go take a bath, Leonellus.” he mumbled at last. “You'll feel so much better.”

Rubico couldn't help but think that he would also look and smell better. He slowly stood up, holding the basket with one arm. The slave looked around and gestured towards the stairs that descended into the Nile. _There?_

“I could take you to the royal bath, if you want? The water might not be very warm since it's very early, still.” Ahkmenrah explained.

Rubico remembered how disturbing it felt to have people cleaning his body. Also, he doubted he belonged any close to a royal _anything_. The fresh water would help him to leave everything that happened last night behind and endure the future warmer hours of the morning. He shook his head.

“Alright.” he stood up, as well. “I'll just...” he gestured towards the bed and frowned a bit. “I'll wait.”

Rubico walked towards the stairs. He left the basket over the marble, so he would be able to keep an eye on the kittens. He liked to take care of others. Kyrillos usually said he had a _nurturing spirit_. That he would become a good tutor because of it. Anything that made the old Greek man think Rubico could be a bit like him filled him with pride.

He removed his dirty tunic and let it fall over the ground before he descended the stairs, being very careful with the last slippery steps.

The Prince had been right. It was a little bit cold, but he didn't mind. The water of the river was clear and it would wash the grime off his body. Rubico took a deep breath before he submerged completely. Under the water, he couldn't hear a thing. Egypt seemed to be away from him, at that very moment. The past experiences were barely a dream. Numerius and Aulus would be decades older than they were when he left them. Everything was so different and so... complicated. So tremendously complicated. He would have to watch his own steps before more people around them start to consider him an enemy. He doubted that the Vizier liked him in any sort of way. He rubbed his eyes and didn't try to open them. The sand tickled his feet, but no fish or frogs came over to greet him.

Ahkmenrah laid on the bed for a few seconds before he stood up and forced himself to give the slave some privacy. He took the fabric covering Idu's cage so he would wake up and become his very personal entertainer. He caressed the back of the little animal until Idu opened his eyes and crawled up his arm. Then he returned to the bed and laid down there, trying his best to not let curiosity or his habit of wanting to observe masculine beauty any time that was displayed close to him gross Rubico out.

But he really really _really_ wanted to take a look. He was sure that the slave's skin would glow pale under the Sun, covered by a thin layer of fresh water. It would drip down his nose into his tender lips. Ahkmenrah licked his own and raised his chin a little before he could notice what he was doing. From his position could hardly see much more than the calm waters of the river and then the tall papyrus palms, shielding him from prying eyes. Not Ahkmenrah's, he was in the right place to spy and yet he could barely see an inch of skin, only his hair that was darker and a less red while wet. Idu, noticing that his owner was far too distracted, bumped over the bed and began to pull the tassel of one of the pillows until he would be able to get it and keep it as his treasure.

The Prince, forgetting his manners, moved closer to the edge of the bed and leaned his hands over the mattress, raising his head a little more. He liked to observe. He never got to do much more than that. There were boys he liked in the past. Boys with soft skin and inviting lips that wouldn't look back at him, far too scared of getting involved with the future Pharaoh. He was _untouchable_. No one was allowed to put their hands on him, no one was allowed to look at his face, they were forced to kneel until he would ask them to forget about their submissive ways. Even if Ahkmenrah found someone that would even dare to speak back to him, it would feel like he was pushing them into giving him what he wanted from them. Then comes the fact that none of his father or brother were much better when it comes to romance so he couldn't ask them for advice. Ahkmenrah heard that very little after Kahmunrah's mother died, he married his mother. It was funny that his brother was still mad about it when he had even four different wives[1] and he was not exactly kind or affectionate to any of them.

But he had a child with every single one of them, so far. Ahkmenrah guessed that was _enough_. He enjoyed spending time with his nieces and nephew. The Prince was clearly still a kid at heart, just as spoiled, as foolish and as naïve. It was his age and the needs that came with it that encouraged him to keep trying to see more of his new friend.

He longed to be touched. To be kissed. To allow them inside of his room and then... use his hands and his mouth on them. His desire went far beyond that: it was not only for the sake of pleasure. He wished to be _loved_ , as well. Ahkmenrah licked his lips once more, his mouth felt awfully dry with _anticipation_ , and dug his fingers a little more over the soft mattress.

Rubico cleaned his eyes with the heels of his hands and considered that he wouldn't go through the same torture twice. He hated the feeling of the makeup caking around his eyes and then smearing all over his face during the night. In his ignorance, he assumed that if he kept doing that, he would end up getting an infection when the makeup was applied to prevent those.

The slave sat down over the stairs, keeping his lower body under the water. He stretched his legs and caressed his skin, now far more slippery than ever since they shaved all of his body hair. He was not sure if he liked it. After a sigh, he laid over the steps, feeling the edges digging against his back. It was not very comfortable, but after sleeping on the floor for so many years, comfortable was something he could only _dream_ about. He closed his eyes and felt the Sun that, by now, was gentle with his overly pale flesh and crossed his arms over his stomach. For a few seconds, he relaxed, breathing evenly before he heard the kittens squealing and scratching the wicker basket.

Rubico turned around and saw the ginger kitten already falling over the marble and leading the other two towards the stairs, meowing a little louder and assuming that now, the redhead would have to be their caretaker.

“Come here, little one.” he whispered tenderly in his mother tongue, extending his hand towards her. She didn't really know how to go downstairs properly, so she ended up failing and falling each time she tried. Her two adoptive brothers followed her, not managing to accomplish that task any more gracefully.

They wouldn't get any closer to the water. Rubico meet them halfway and sat down on the stairs once again, now his whole body out of the river. He held the three of them against his chest and the tabby cat tried to rub his little head against his chin, clearly demanding some affection, not minding that he was a little moist still, but quickly drying under the Sun.

“I will take care of you three, but you'll have to take care of me, too. Jupiter knows I might need some help.” After being accepted by the Egyptian Gods, should he speak about the ones he left behind? His voice was low and those he spoke to wouldn't tell anyone. And to make sure that no human heard him, Rubico turned his head and looked over his shoulder once again, only to find Ahkmenrah clearly spying on him, leaning over the edge of his bed and with his eyebrows raised.

For a few seconds, they merely looked at each other until the Prince could realize that he got caught staring. His cheeks began to turn all warm and the slave could almost see how they grew red with shame. He tried to hide as quick as he could with the terrible luck that his right hand slipped and fell off the bed, probably landing right on his face. Rubico heard him curse from the stairs and turned his head once again. He looked down at the kittens and ended up smiling, small but somehow entertained. Rubico hated to think that he could grow fond of the Prince, but truth to be told... it was complicated to see him as someone cruel or despicable in any sort of way.

He never found any pleasure in catching other people's attention. The other men he met back home were very much like Galeatus, who didn't waste much time on seducing a slave because those were meant to _obey_. They didn't look at him like that. They barely looked at him when he was underneath them, to begin with. So that was _new_. It created a gentle warmth inside of his stomach. There was amusement in him. And it was somehow thrilling.

Was he a fool for feeling like that? Of course! Princes don't grow fond of slaves. Either here or anywhere else. It would be as foolish as to think that a Patrician would genuinely want something from a non-free man other than submission and a little pleasure.

Still, Rubico couldn't make the smile disappear. Nor he could still his heart. He heard Ahkmenrah rushing to stand up and clear his throat very loudly, like that would erase what just happened.

He didn't know what to do with himself and Rubico bit his lower lip, trying not to chuckle. The Prince was just a boy that got nervous by being caught staring. He didn't know much about the rights the Pharaohs had, but he was sure he could get away with looking at a naked slave. The three kittens kept meowing, only staying in his arms because they didn't want to fall into the water. Rubico held them closer to his chest and stood up, heading upstairs and placing them back on the basket, covering them with the blankets. Then, he hooked it over his elbow and stood with his back towards the inside of the room. He felt so aware of his own naked state that the water dripping down his limbs felt even warmer than it was.

Ahkmenrah didn't dare to move, with his fingers inside of his mouth, nibbling his nails until he dared to take another look at the slave. He was standing there, not doing anything. He observed his back —with old and pale scars decorating his skin—, how his frame narrowed down around the waist and the hips. The pale gloves of his buttocks, the back of his legs that had muscle but only as the result of a life of hard work. To him, Rubico was beautiful and worth looking at. For some reason, there was something in him that was _attractive_. That urged him to speak to him, get to know him a little better. Looking wouldn't be enough as it usually was.

The slave turned his head and looked back at him again. When their eyes met for the second time, Ahkmenrah parted his lips, trying to find a good excuse. Nothing came. Rubico didn't say _anything_. He didn't scold him or judge him. He only looked at the towels and then back at the Prince. The slave waited.

Ahkmenrah finally understood the silent command and obeyed. He rushed to take the towel and approached him, swallowing thickly. He felt nervous and all tense. The Prince placed it over his shoulders and squeezed his arms softly. His flesh was warm and moist, so the linen clung onto him. Ahkmenrah sighed, wishing to lean forward and follow the drops of fresh water that were trickling down his nape with his lips.

“You've been whipped.” It was not a question. It was quite obvious. Rubico turned his head and raised his eyebrows before he nodded. _Oh, yeah_. “But not here, have you? Not since you arrived to my home.” the redhead denied this time. “You must tell me if it ever happens.” Ahkmenrah said before he made sure that towel also covered Rubico's front. The slave boy felt like one of those noble men that were part of the Senate. “Is that understood? If someone ever hurts you, you have to do what you did last night: find me as soon as you can. Alright?” he turned Rubico around to look at his eyes.

He didn't know why the Prince cared so much. And why he felt so good about that fact. It was foolish. _Tremendously foolish_. He finally nodded again.

“Good...” Ahkmenrah smiled tenderly and Rubico thought that he liked his teeth. They were white and beautiful. He wished he could be good-looking and dashing like the Prince. He couldn't rely on any other thing that wasn't his red hair and his big nose. The future Pharaoh was now calmer and without any intention to bring up the fact he got caught spying on him. He wrapped his arm around Rubico and walked him back to the bed. “It's time for you to get dressed.”

He nodded, leaving the basket over the ground.

“I also discussed with my father your new position. I don't think Kawab will be pleased, but it's not like I can please him anymore.” Ahkmenrah trailed off, not knowing if he should help him dress up or turn around. He decided to grant him the privacy he denied him previously. He gave him his back and sighed when he heard the towel falling to the ground. “You know what a Fan-Bearer is?” It was pretty self-explanatory.

Rubico kept his silence as he began to dress up, very pleased that his tunic resembled to the one he wore back in Rome, only way lighter and dyed with a dark maroon shade. What worried him was the fact that he was supposed to wear _accessories_. He didn't mind much about the dark green sash around his waist. It would make it easier for him to move and keep the skirt from raising any higher than it was supposed to be. Rubico styled it in a way that would also cross his chest and fell over his left shoulder. Maybe that was his desire to dress like a free citizen of Rome even if he would never be one.

What he didn't think it was proper was to wear gold, so he left the bracelets and the bejeweled scarab on the bed. He would have easily traded those for some new sandals. _Oh, well_.

Ahkmenrah took his long silence as confusion. Did they have Fan-Bearers in Rome? He decided to explain: “The Fan-Bearer is one of the persons Pharaoh trusts the most. He usually stands by his right. He is always there with His Majesty.” he didn't want to leave his friend alone at any moment. “Some of them have been so loyal that were buried in the Valley of the Kings.”

Rubico didn't know what or where that Valley was. He decided to walk around Ahkmenrah and stand in front of him to show him that he was ready.

“These are not for me, you know that, right?” the Prince gestured at the jewelry over the bed. Rubico nodded. “Let me help you with th—” Rubico shook his head. “You don't want them?” Once again, _no_. Ahkmenrah furrowed his nose, a little displeased. “At least wear this, please?” he took the scarab from the bed. “Don't think of it as... _wealth_. This is the symbol of Khepri, God of Rebirth. He renews the Sun every morning. It will bring you good luck. Will help you to make it through the night and not stray from the path.” he licked his lips. “Please, Leonellus, accept it. It's a gift I want to give to you.”

And Rubico couldn't help but think he looked sweet and somehow endearing while pleading. He pressed his lips very tightly to keep himself from smiling. He finally nodded and inclined his head forward, allowing him to put the necklace around his neck. The scarab was not too heavy over his chest. The red jewels reflected the light beautifully.

The Prince smiled once again. “Just one thing more and we will be able to leave.” he grabbed the very last garment that very much resembled a shawl or simply a piece of fabric that was not big enough for any part of his body. “I think you have the most beautiful hair I've ever seen,” he sounded apologetic. “but considering how much trouble it put you through, maybe it would be wise to cover it for a while. Also, if we ever go outside the castle, it will help you to not pass out. You are so pale.” he chuckled, entertained by that fact. He put the green fabric over his hair and folded it over his right shoulder so it would compensate the one that already fell from the left one. “There we go.”

*** * ***

The flabellum he was given was at least six feet tall and made of gold and pheasant feathers. It was quite heavy and Ahkmenrah had to show him the most comfortable way to fan him without ending up with sore arms. It would be complicated since he was rather weak after the trip. Not that he has ever been especially strong. He should try to eat a little more. Even the Prince told him and he could surely take it as an order.

And about his new position... _Well_. It could be worse. He would want to do something related to what he did back home but considering that he was not speaking, maybe this was the best deal he could get out of this situation. He would be by Ahkmenrah's side, day and night. And since he was the only one who has been kind to him, Rubico thought that he would be safe for a little while.

But it was complicated to perform as a Fan-Bearer and also having to look after three little kittens that desperately wanted to explore the palace. Rubico fanned the Prince but constantly stopped to softly nudge the kittens back to his feet. The tabby kitten was well-behaved or perhaps a little lazy. He was laying over his feet, sleeping calmly. The ginger was trying to bite and pull Ahkmenrah's sandal and the dark one was pretending to be a scout.

When he tried to bring the little cat back where he would be safe, he heard the Prince snicker and then sneeze. When he looked at him he noticed that he was tickling his nose with the feathers. He gasped a little bit and stepped back. Ahkmenrah only chuckled a little more and rubbed his nose.

Rubico smiled a little bit exchange and the Prince felt mesmerized.

That moment of pure magic was ruined by Kawab's presence. He irrupted in the room and bowed, quickly, not letting his manners stand in the way of his anger.

“What is _this_.”

Ahkmenrah looked around and frowned a bit. “What exactly...?”

“A Fan-Bearer?!” he pointed at the slave who decided to stop, just in case if he lost his new position and had to give the flabellum to someone else.

“He's been attacked twice. If he's close to me, he'll be safe. It sounded like a reasonable decision?”

“You are supposed to discuss that kind of matters with me.” he reminded him.

“I spoke with my father. He thought it was a good idea.”

“You shouldn't bother him with _trivialities_.”

“If this is a _triviality_ it's a good thing you didn't have to deal with it.” he grinned smartly.

Kawab sighed, long and tired. He rubbed his forehead. First he decides to keep a slave, then he banishes two priests and now the boy was the Fan-Bearer? He missed life before the red slave arrived to their land. He was a poisonous gift. He would bring them _suffering_.

“He is a _slave_ , Your Majesty.” the Vizier finally reminded him. “He's not your toy. He's not your monkey. You can't spoil him just to keep him entertained. If so, it's _his_ duty to entertain _you_.” If the Prince ever decided to take more of the slave than he was willing to offer, no one would help him. No one would _care_. “And look at him. Gods, the boy can barely carry the flabellum all by himself!”

“Kawab!” Ahkmenrah frowned and stood up. “That's my best friend you are speaking about.” he sounded so childish. Even to Rubico. “As you said, I am not Pharaoh yet. And maybe his position might change when the time comes. You shouldn't be so worried!” he wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I know what I am doing. He'll be with me all the time, alright? You won't hear me complain! At all!”

That would be a _miracle_.

“But you have to let me do things my way. And I am sure you'll be very busy trying to find a new priest for the palace!” he smiled widely. “So...” he opened the door and pushed him a little bit so he would get out. “Do that. Thank you for your visit! It's always lovely to see you!”

And then, he closed the door.

This situation will end him. _Mark his words_.

*** * ***

Rubico found out that being a Fan-Bearer didn't keep him from his duty of being the Prince's _minder_.

Ahkmenrah insisted on keeping the slave close to him _all_ the time, so they arranged a small cot on the corner of his chambers when Rubico denied the suggestion of sleeping with him in the same bed with a silent and judgmental look. While he was growing somehow fond of him, that didn't mean the redhead would let him confuse the situation. He set his boundaries. The fact that he was handsome and sweet wouldn't change anything... Or so he hoped.

During those first three weeks of spending every minute of the day with the Prince, Rubico found out that he was capricious, sometimes superficial, easy to distract and a bit of a brat. But he failed to feel irritated by him or his actions. It was impossible to be mad at him or despise him. His heart was in the right place and he always offered Rubico what he had, which was the very best. That didn't mean, of course, that sometimes he wasn't _frustrating_.

Something the young heir especially enjoyed was to lay his head on the slave's lap and let Rubico run his fingers through the thick and dark locks of hair. Since he refused to shave his hair as any other man from Kemet did, it was _mandatory_ to make sure he didn't have any lice. The redhead did the same for himself every morning, since he had no one to look after him. He was pleased that they care so much about hygene. They had to while living so close to a river, where the insects gathered.

And while that task was not displeasing for Rubico —in fact, it was quite endearing to see him hum and rub his cheek against his thigh once he was done or how even Idu joined while grooming him—, that afternoon the Prince couldn't take it _anymore_.

It began with loud and long sighs. The Roman only raised an eyebrow and looked down at the Prince. He looked beyond miserable with those big eyes of his. And foolishly, at first Rubico thought that there was truly something wrong with him. So he stopped for a moment, thinking about cupping his cheek. He still didn't touch him unless Ahkmenrah brought his hands to him like he did for his hair routine. Their tabby cat —that Rubico named _Niveus_ — rubbed his little head against the Prince's chest as he caressed his back.

“I'm in pain, Leonellus.” Ahkmenrah confessed. “I've been in pain for _weeks_ and I can't take it anymore. I have to tell you about it.” the Prince was far from subtle. Rubico doubted that he had been hiding anything away from him. He was far too obvious. “Your silence is killing me.” Rubico rolled his eyes a little bit and the Prince huffed. “It is! It's killing me! I want to become your friend _so bad_ and you won't speak to me. _Ever_!” he did pronounce a few words, but not much more than that. He didn't even tell him the names of the three cats. “I'd do _anything_ to hear your sweet voice!” he sat down properly and held the redhead's hand with both of his. “It's on you. Only you can stop this. So please, release my heart from torment.” he practically pleaded. “I'll die if you don't!”

That was the most _ridiculous_ thing he ever heart in his life. A Prince worried because a slave is not speaking to him? That's stupid. Rubico was pretty sure that he was not suffering but that the boy never experienced anyone doing something that was not exactly what he wanted from them, before.

“Die, then.” Rubico finally replied, his voice clear and even. “If you can't possibly deal with this situation that is so _insignificant_ , how are you ever going to face _real_ suffering?” the slave asked. This was nothing. Being taken away from your home, your only wish and those you still cared about was suffering. _This wasn't_. “You are still very young, Your Majesty.” Only a year younger than Rubico himself, but between them there was an abyss. Rubico hasn't been a child for far too many years. “And I truly think you are far too naïve. You are meant to rule, someday. You shouldn't care about _these_ things.” he wasn't ready, was he? His mother told him to look after him and be ready to see whatever that could hurt him. But he considered that the Prince needed to have a thicker skin.

And while those were strict words, even far more than the ones he ever heard from his own parents, Ahkmenrah was willing to conceal the roughness of the words with the fact that he _finally_ spoke to him. Proper sentences.

“Leonellus... Oh, you speak so _eloquently_.” he whispered and bit his lower lip, smiling so widely. He squeezed his fingers tenderly, seeing that scolding as a symbol of trust. That his friend was finally opening up to him when all the slave wanted was to let some of his frustration out.

“Jupiter, you are a lost cause!” he huffed, unable to hold his tongue and show the proper respect. Maybe it was also Ahkmenrah's fault for not showing the slave the limits of their familiarity. Perhaps all that the young heir wanted was to be as close to him as possible. “Are you listening to me?”

“I am! Oh, I am! Look at you...” he looked absolutely mesmerized. Ahkmenrah caressed his neck with the tip of his fingers, seeing how it moved and contracted with each word that escaped his mouth. Rubico pressed his lips and leaned back a bit. “Who's Jupiter, though?” he couldn't help but ask.

He frowned a little bit, exchange. “You don't know anything about my...” _careful there_. “About the _Roman_ Gods?” he couldn't help but feel a little surprised. Rome was expanding and forcing those who lost against the raveous She-Wolf to accept their ways. Of course, Egypt hasn't been touched by the great Republic, _yet_.

“No, you'll have to teach me yourself. _Keep talking_.” That was both an order and a plea.

“Jupiter is the... the King of the Gods.” he felt like he shouldn't speak about him to a future Pharaoh. The Vizier already looked at him like he was willing to corrupt him. He didn't want to give him reasons to prove himself right. “Father of many.”

“Oh. Is he the Sun, as well?” Ra was their greatest God. If Jupiter was supposed to be King as he was, perhaps he was also the greatest symbol there is.

“No. But he is the God of the Sky and Thunder.” he explained as their black cat — _Ater_ —laid on Rubico's lap. He scratched him behind his ears as the animal yawned.

“Which is his greatest accomplishment?” he would do as much as he could to keep the conversation going. Keep the flame of their interaction warm and eager.

“Uh...” Rubico looked around and frowned a little bit. It took him a little bit to answer: “Having plenty of lovers.”

“Yeah?” That obviously caught the Prince's interest. He always had it for intimacy, seduction and conquest. If he wasn't so _away_ from everybody, if he could be as close as he was to the slave, still holding his hand in his... He brushed his thumb over his knuckles. “How many?”

“Far too many.” Rubico saw men and women indulging in lust far too often. He never saw the appeal of sex or romance. Maybe it was the simply fact that slaves took no decisions. Even if he fell in love, he would never been able to fulfill that wish or persue a happy life with the one he wanted the most. So why bother?

“Women?” he insisted.

“Most but not all of them.”

Ahkmenrah licked his lips and shifted closer. “Talk to me about the exception?”

It was clear, wasn't it? The inclination of his lust. It was masculine and it showed. Rubico was far from surprised. Most of the men he met had a special taste for the warmth they could find in the body that was far more similar to theirs. Only smaller, a little more delicate.

“There was Ganymede, the Prince of Troy. Jupiter turned into an eagle and abducted him. He took him to the realm of the Gods with him. And ever since that day, he became their Cup-Bearer.” he explained briefly.

“Did the God love him?” Ahkmenrah asked with eagerness. Cup-Bearer, Fan-Bearer. The story could repeat itself.

He could barely hide his excitement and Rubico thought that he was childish but noble. He truly tried to suffocate the fondness he felt for him as he did when he gave him their pets, his clothes and new title. “Oh, he did. Enough to make his wife jealous.” but it was fair to say that Juno was always jealous. She was given _plenty_ of reasons.

“And” he released Rubico's hands only to place them on each side of the slave's lap, leaning in. The redhead raised his chin a little. “do they live happily?”

“It's hard to tell which one was his last lover, but I _doubt_ it.”

“Why?”

“The Gods are not faithful. And those who are, are overly possessive. It's a good thing that men are not more than that: _men_.”

“The Gods speak through me.” Ahkmenrah reminded him with the sweetest smile.

“Are you _unfaithful_?” Rubico dared to ask.

“No.” he shook his head.

“Then you must be _possessive_.” he replied casually and Ahkmenrah couldn't possibly deny him that. He didn't share his good Roman friend with anyone, did he? The slave decided to test his theory, amuse himself even if he shouldn't. He was in no position to play with a _Prince_. But he never felt so in control, before. “Galeatus used to call me that: _Ganymede_.” The memory was displeasing but it was worth it to see such tender man become frustrated with something similar to jealousy.

“Who is Galeatus?” his jaw was tight, his fingers gripped the light blankets under his palms.

Rubico saw that he got the desired effect and he thought that he should _stop_. Princes don't see lovers in slaves. Only tools for pleasure. He didn't want to be used ever again. Not if it was meaningless. He turned his head and saw _Rubra_ [2] —their feisty ginger one, through her Rubico understood that he lacked the same originality as his former owners— hissing and chasing Idu. That monkey was naughty as he could be.

“ _Leonellus_.” he repeated a little firmer.

The redhead raised his eyebrows and looked at him. The authority in his voice made his stomach nervous, _warm_. He didn't feel scared, though. “He was _just_ a man that pretended to be a God. Nothing more.” he said before he stood up and gave him Ater, so he could correct Rubra's behavior and keep those two from starting another battle.

*** * ***

Ahkmenrah spent the rest of the afternoon _sulking_. He was not subtle about it and Rubico couldn't help but smile from time to time when the Prince wanted to repay him with the same coin. The slave gave him nothing but silence for weeks and now he wanted to do the same. Too bad, he already knew that the Prince was unable to stay silent for far too long. Something told him that if he approached him and spoke to him, Ahkmenrah would answer.

And because he wasn't doing that, the Prince began to sigh, a loud as he did a few hours ago. He made sure to be loud enough to make it over the sounds of the rain falling over the river and the thunder crossing the sky. Jupiter visited them. Rubico was fulfilling his duty: he closed the courtains and covered the delicate linen with the window blinds that were made of thin wood. Then he began to light all the oil lamps scattered all over the Prince's chambers. Ahkmenrah kept his eyes on the slave and once he was done, he sighed once again.

The redhead smiled a little bit and walked back towards his cot. There he kneeled and soothed the three cats with tender Latin words before he put them back inside their basket. This one was significantly bigger since they would keep growing and they needed to be comfortable. Then he covered it with a blanket and stood up once again. Then Ahkmenrah sat down properly and cleared his throat, assuming it was _finally_ his turn.

 _Wrong_.

Rubico did the same with Idu and covered his cage with another blanket, so they could fall asleep instead of suffering because of the thunderstorm. When the Roman turned, he saw that the Prince was crossing his arms and looking at him in the most displeased way that he was capable of. Rubico felt the need to caress his cheeks and cuddle him against his chest. He knew how to comfort children, he used to be a tutor, after all.

He stood close to his bed and asked: “Can I talk to you, Your Majesty?”

Ahkmenrah tried his best to play it tough and only grumbled.

Rubico kneeled by the bed and then the Prince looked at him, frowning a little bit. He held his arm and made him join him on the bed. Even if he was displeased, he was unable to be cruel to him. He couldn't help but feel touched.

“I upset you.” he said. “It was not my intention. I apologize.” Slaves had no honor and pride. They _must_ apologize first either if they are to blame or not.

“There are no princes in Rome.” Ahkmenrah replied, abruptly. He held his knees against his chest and played with his long white tunic.

He tilted his head. “No, there aren't.” That has nothing to do with anything, does it?

“Why?”

“I am not sure you have the patien—”

“Who is Galeatus.” he asked once again with a frown on his face. If there weren't any princes in Rome, then who could that man be?

“I told y—”

“That was hardly an answer. What is he? A... politician? A merchant? A priest? Ra, what is he?!” he grew and more frustrated with himself.

“A _Centurion_.”

“What is that?”

“A soldier.” The fact that he was still speaking about that man was beyond him. He was never all that important. Not even when he was inside of him. Why would he be now that he was away?

“A soldier!” Ahkmenrah stood up abrutply and walked around. The fabric of his cape made a soft sound over the ground. “A soldier, no other, Leonellus! Apep, a soldier... A stupid soldier! One to follow... orders and kill for a living! Oh, that's so _disappointing_!” the Prince loathed violence. “That's the kind of man you'd grow fond of?”

“I was not fond of him.” Rubico confessed.

“But,” Ahkmenrah stopped and looked at him. “you were lovers.” If he was correct, Ganymede was the lover of the God Jupiter. Why would he call him that, if not?

Rubico furrowed his nose. Lovers would imply a feeling that was not felt by either of them. “Not quite.”

“I don't understand.” Did they or did they not become intimate? Because Ahkmenrah was becoming jealous by only the thought of it.

“ _Servus non habet personam_.” he confessed.

“What does that even mean, Leonellus?” Ahkmenrah crossed his arms.

“A slave doesn't have the identity of a person.” Rubico explained with his hands over his lap. “Slaves cannot decide over themselves. They can't say no. They can't say yes. They can only do whatever others —who have an identity, a person and a name— tell them to do. I was not fond of him. I cannot become fond of anyone. Or hate them. I don't have a say over my own emotions.”

“That's...” Ahkmenrah licked his lips. He walked back to the bed and sat down by his side, holding his hands. “That's _terrible_.”

“Are slaves any different in here?” he tilted his head, genuinely curious.

He parted his lips and then closed them, frowning some more. Maybe he shouldn't bring up the fact that his brother had the bad habit of covering his slaves in honey so the flies would get stuck on them and wouldn't bother him[3]. Ahkmenrah never looked at them and gave it much thought to the very unpleasing role they had. “No, but _you_ are.”

“No.” Rubico replied and denied. “I'm not. The only difference is that you know my name.” Or what Ahkmenrah _thought_ that was his name.

The Prince bit his lower lip and looked down, feeling ashamed. Rubico smiled a little bit and tilted his head, trying to find his eyes once again. It was hard to be mad at him when he looked like that: so lost and yet so pure.

“I like your company a lot, though.” he confessed with a low voice. “Your presence soothes me, Leonellus. You always look so calm.” He wasn't. Inside, Rubico was angry and sad. But if he showed some of it, it would only bring him trouble. He wanted to live. He wanted to survive. See where this would take him. “Kawab says that I am childish. Kahmunrah says that I am clueless. My father and my mother say that I am kind. And you said that I was not ready to become a Pharaoh.” The slave thought about apologizing before Ahkmenrah continued: “I worry about failing. I've been thinking about that Galeatus ever since you mentioned his name. And he's not even here! Nor he will ever be! How will I ever deal with a problem that is close to me? Osiris, I hope my father lives many years.”

He sounded so genuine and so real in that moment. Ahkmenrah was a young boy, very passionate and sincere. Unable to conceal his own emotions, fears or obsessions. He would need to find balance, peace within himself so he would be able to handle as much as it would come his way. Rubico's heart was as tender as it could be in that very moment. Curiously, Galeatus was now only important because he remembered what he said about the Prince. That he was gentle and kind. Loved by all. That everybody was devoted to him. That he was loyal and generous. And Rubico wanted to please him, as he was warned that he would. Maybe it was the fact that he never met anyone with such honest intentions.

After gathering some courage, Rubico extended his hand towards him and touched his chin, carefully. Ahkmenrah blinked and sucked in a deep breath, far from used to feel someone else's touch.

“People love you.” The redhead began. “Their love was pure. It was not corrupted by fear or intimidation. They can see that there's good in you, Your Majesty. If you listen to them and look after them, giving them what they ask of you when it's fair, they will remember you as the greatest ruler they ever had.”

Ahkmenrah sighed and licked his lips. His eyes were watery and he held Rubico's hand, making him cup his cheek with it. He brushed his soft skin against his palm and closed his eyes, managing to not shed any tear. Many times he has been flattered, but never like this. It never meant that much, before. For some reason, the slave had a power over him that he couldn't quite explain or understand. “You think so?” he asked, almost pleading him to continue with his lovely speech.

Rubico exhaled. Was all the love he once had for his students going somewhere else? Kyrillos usually said that he was gifted with devotion and loyalty. Would it be wise to offer so much to a Prince? Probably not. Still, he could help himself: “Respect can be earned. Love is a miracle. It either happens or doesn't, no matter how hard you fight for it.”

“Oh, Leonellus.” he breathed before he pulled him forward and held him tightly against his chest.

Rubico patted his back a little bit, not knowing what to do, a little surprised by the sudden effusiveness. So since he didn't feel like he could offer him affection, he decided to give him honesty: “I lied.”

“What?” he held his arms and leaned back to look at his face.

“About my name. I lied.” he repeated, answering the question the Prince made a few weeks ago. “The Dominus called me Rubico.”

“What's a Dominus?” Ahkmenrah felt like he would have to ask his old tutors to tell him more about Roman culture.

“My former owner.” he didn't even want to picture Parvus' face. A liar, a traitor. A cruel and careless man.

“And what does Rubico mean?” he asked as he caressed his cheek with his thumb.

“It's the name of a river. I was born in Ravenna, it's very close close to the river Rubico. It was the easiest way to remember it.” it was not a proper name for a boy. Or a man. Just a slave and to remember where he was from.

“But that's not the name your parents gave you.” he insisted. He was named by his own parents. As everybody else did. “Which is...?”

“That's why I lied.” Rubico looked away as he licked his lips. “I don't remember my parents. But...” he cleared his throat. Was he going to talk about himself to him? Why? A stupid mistake. “There was someone I thought of as my father.” he swallowed. “His name was Kyrillos. He was a slave, from Greece. He taught me everything I know. Even your language.” His voice was drowned in melancholy when he spoke about the dead man. “He used to call me Leonellus. I was very fond of that name.” he sighed and closed his eyes for a second.

“Leonellus sounds way better. Having the name of a river is nonsense.” Ahkmenrah cupped his face properly. “You should use the name you like the most, not the one that is convenient for others.” And that was funny considering that as soon as he arrived to this land, they gave him yet another name. “And it's _meant_ to be your name. You are Sekhmet's favourite. You _must_ be her little lion.” he smiled.

Sometimes, at night, Rubico thought about himself as Leonellus. But only before falling asleep, right when his dreams became true and he was a free man. He would die as a slave. Kyrillos told him that he would release himself from his chains, one day. But it didn't look like it was a possibility anymore. This was the only thing that he had here. And maybe the name would be the only reason to find strength to keep going.

Perhaps in the same way that he was no longer wearing Parvus' necklace, neither he should carry his old name. Maybe here, between the both of them, he _could_ be Leonellus as he was with Kyrillos. That was his fate: to only be himself with one person only.

But one was a better number than none, right?

 _Leonellus_ nodded and Ahkmenrah caressed his cheek.

He enjoyed his touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Polygamy was legal for the Ancient Egyptians. Polygamy is the practice of marriage to more than one spouse simultaneously. Although polygamy was legal it was generally only practised by the wealthy - the prospect of paying maintenance to several women must have reduced the practise. Pharaohs practised polygamy which helped to seal alliances, establish their dynasties and resolve questions of succession. In instances were polygamy was practised one of the women would be named as the main wife and enjoyed a special and higher status compared to any other wives. Source: HistoryEmbalmed.org
> 
> 2 Niveus: snowy, white. Ater: black, dark. Rubra: red, ruddy.
> 
> 3 Real practice. Allegedly Pharaoh Pepi II despised flies and would keep naked slaves smeared with honey near him in order to keep flies away. Source: CreatingHistory.com


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It's beyond me why Kawab would want to call you Deshret.” Ahkmenrah confessed after a few minutes of silence. “The Red Land is unforgiving. Confusing and ruthless. Set is the one in charge to rule it; we are nothing but pawns in his domain.” and therefore, victims at his mercy. The Vizier had to see something else other than his red hair in him to give him such name. But Sekhmet herself welcomed the Roman slave into their land; he was not a threat. He was not an agent of chaos. Leonellus would not bring despair or war to his land. Neither he would corrupt it with disgrace. “You are far from that.” while he didn't know Leonellus as much as he would want to, it was clear that there was no malice in him. No hunger for power, either.  
> While Leonellus appreciate his words, he knew exactly why Kawab gave him that name. He still felt the pressure of the heel of his hand over his stomach if he focused on that memory.  
> Their relationship will be fruitless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super long but it feels fair to post it after the Christmas break. Now, I finished writing chapter VII during the holidays but towards the end of this month I have a rather important exam so I am not sure if I will post weekly or once each two weeks until I can focus on writing again. Either way, thanks for reading and leaving kudos and comments :)

Kawab was worried.

That was nothing new, but the fact that Prince spent more and more time with the slave only proved him right. Ever since he turned him into his Fan-Bearer it was practically impossible to get him alone or to explain him the matters of their kingdom without the red one hearing about them. He knew about the Romans. And he knew their desire for _conquest_. Their land would _never_ be ruled by an outsider. Not under the light of Ra or in the shadow. He had to make sure that the young boy wouldn't whisper commands on the Prince's ear, concealing those as pleads or rewards for offering some kind of satisfaction.

It wouldn't be the first time that politics happened inside of a closed bedroom.

“Your Majesty.” he began to follow him as soon as he saw the Prince with his slave. “We need to talk.”

Ahkmenrah smiled and turned, not slowing down or stopping. “Right now? I'm taking Leonellus to the Valley of the Kings. I want him to see my father's tomb! And where we will start building mine as soon as I rule.”

“To the Valley of the Kings? You'll be out all day.” he frowned.

“Yes.” he replied still smiling, walking out of the palace.

“We chose the new Priest.” Kawab kept following him and Leonellus looked at him somehow curious. He ignored the slave. “He was the High Priest of the Temple of Ptah.”

“Oh, wonderful. He has the experience. Great. Fantastic work, Kawab. I know I can always trust you.” he nodded, not paying much attention.

“Your Majesty!” he finally stopped him by holding his arm. He was about to be scolded. “This behavior is _unacceptable_! You've been ignoring all of your duties for _weeks_! This is not how a future Pharaoh is supposed to act! I expect more from you. Some interest, at least!”

Ahkmenrah parted his lips and frowned a little bit. That's how he has been acting, lately? He looked at Leonellus from the corner of his eyes and the slave said nothing. He agreed with the Vizier, but he didn't think it was wise to answer any question in front of him or he will assume he was dictating his words and acts. “...Really?”

“Yes, _really_!” Kawab huffed and closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. “You are free to go today. But _tomorrow_ you'll have to take care of your responsibilities _all day long_. No excuse and no matter how late you might arrive to the palace. Is that understood?”

“Absolutely!” Ahkmenrah beamed. “Kawab, you are surely my favourite Vizier!” He has been in that position before the Prince was even born. He pulled him into a warm and quick hug before he released him and grabbed Leonellus' hand. He started to run towards the river.

There was a small boat waiting for them. Ahkmenrah helped Leonellus to get on it only to have a excuse to rest his hand on his back. There was another flabellum there, this one made of wood and peacock feathers. Because he accepted his role, the slave carefully walked to get it as Ahkmenrah sat down on the only seat on the boat. “Come back here, Leonellus.” he made a move with his hand. “You'll faint if you stand under the Sun. The breeze will be enough. Sit with me.”

He obeyed and sat down in front of him and under the shadow, briefly observing the men who took the oars and started rowing. He brushed the fabric covering his hair and let it rest over his shoulders. “Is it really hot in there?” Because the first time he arrived to the city, he passed out. He feared it would happen the same.

“Yes, but don't worry about it. Wearing a cloak will keep you from passing out. We'll have water and food as well. And if you don't feel well, we'll go back.” Ahkmenrah explained.

Leonellus held his knees against his chest for some more comfort. He didn't ask why the royal family was buried in Thebes, Upper Egypt, when they lived in Men-Nefer, Lower Egypt. Those were things Leonellus didn't know. He only thought it was curious that the city and the necropolis were so far from each other.

“Have you been there many times?”

“Only a few.” he denied.

“Do you know your way around there?” The last thing Leonellus wanted was to get lost in the desert.

“The Medjay[1] will guide us.”

“Who are the _Medhay_?”

“ _Medjay_.” the Prince corrected him with a smile.

“ _Medjay_.” Leonellus repeated, always wanting to show he was a good student.

Ahkmenrah nodded: “They are... We could describe them as guards of our land. They are the ones that know their way around the desert and that protect Pharaohs' properties. Honorable and strong men. Nubians, most of them.”

“There were Nubian gladiators in Rome.” He remembered them for they had dark skin and were awfully skilled in combat. Numerius' favourite clay disks usually portrayed some of them.

“What's a gladiator?”

“Oh, you won't like that.” Leonellus denied. “You said you loathed violence.”

“I do, but I want to know!” Ahkmenrah insisted leaning forward and holding Leonellus' arms, making him get closer and cross his forearms over his knees.

The slave smiled a bit, looking down, before he played with the elegant fabric of the Prince's robe. “A gladiator is a man that fights for other people's entertainment.”

“ _Awful_!”

“I told you so!” Leonellus huffed, rolling his eyes.

“They are all Nubians? They should come back if that's the life they'll have in Rome.”

“No.” Leonellus denied. “Some of them are slaves. But others aren't. Becoming a gladiator is a good way to be...” he frowned a bit, struggling to find the word. “ _seen_?”

“As in, being famous?” the Prince asked.

“Yes! _Famous_!” he nodded. Ahkmenrah smiled a little wider. Leonellus was speaking plenty that morning: his voice was sweet and his soul was beautiful. “Some even train for it[2]. People love gladiators because they are powerful, strong and determined. They love them so much that they buy their sweat and use it as perfume[3].”

Ahkmenrah's face reflected pure _disgust_. “They do not, you must be lying.”

“I'm not!” Leonellus insisted, looking up at him. “I've always had enough with my own sweat.” And it was not like he could afford it.

He furrowed his nose and shook his head, not even wanting to imagine the _stench_. Leonellus tried his best to not chuckle.

*** * ***

The desert was _very_ intimidating. The dunes were colossal. The hill at the very end looked like it was trying to poke the sky. It made sense that this was where the dead rested: no one would come out alive if they didn't know exactly where they were going.

They arrived to Thebes when the Sun was high in the sky and it far more vicious than at any other moment of the day. Leonellus feared that he wouldn't complete this adventure without fanting at least once. Ahkmenrah wrapped the red cloak around him and covered his head both with the fabric he usually carried and then the hood. His friend was far from used to this sort of weather and the desert could be harsh and unforgiving even with those who lived there.

“How far is it...?” he couldn't help but ask once again.

“Not too far. Don't worry about it.” the Prince answered, removing all of the gold that he carried on his arms and neck. Under the Sun it could easily burn his skin. He kept everything inside of a small chest that would be guarded by the men on the boat. He also covered his head with his white cloak. “Now let— You are not wearing any shoes!” he huffed as soon as he saw the slave's bare feet.

Leonellus looked down and wiggled his toes. “No.” How he was supposed to have some if the Prince got rid of the ones he brought from Rome?

“I...” he frowned a little more. “I _forgot_.” That was nothing new. His frustration became regret as he sighed. “I'm sorry, I keep forgetting about them.” He was so overwhelmed by the presence of the slave that he forgot about everything else. Even about the sandals. “Well!” he cleared his throat. “Good thing we won't go there walking, right?” he offered with a hopeful smile.

Leonellus as not especially mad because he knew that the Prince had the habit to forget about things, either details or important tasks. He didn't discriminate. Surely he would want to have shoes on, but he didn't fail to notice that slaves and servants were the only ones in the palace that were barefoot. He assumed that he wouldn't be wearing them any time soon. He nodded reassuringly.

“Okay, we'll walk fast.” the Prince said as he stepped out of the boat before he took Leonellus' hand and guided him, walking quickly. The sand was burning, warm and red. Ra was not forgiving in the Deshret. “Come on, sit, sit, sit.” Ahkmenrah commanded as soon as they reached a calm camel. The animal was already saddled and not paying them that much attention.

Leonellus carefully sat down. He looked curious since this was the first time he saw one of these. When he noticed that the Prince was brushing the sand off his feet, he became a little self-conscious and thought that he shouldn't do that. At all. He moved his feet away from him and said: “I'll do it.”

Ahkmenrah parted his lips but eventually nodded. Sometimes he could be far too effusive, but he always acted out of the kindness. When he heard barking, he turned around and saw two tall and muscular dogs with short fur and long and pointy ears. They were the very spitting image of the God Anubis.

Leonellus grabbed the back of the Prince's cloak and pulled a bit.

Ahkmenrah smiled and he rested a hand on his shoulder: “No need to be scared, these are friends.”

As soon as the dogs reached them, they started to bounce around and sniffing their clothes. Leonellus became stiff. He was not awfully fond of dogs. He was bitten by one when he was little and ever since, he grew wary of them.

“It's fine, it's fine.” he tried to soothe the dogs' enthusiasm and keep them away from Leonellus. The slave's spine looked like it was about to snap. The dogs licked his face and tried to get him to play with them. Even the animals adored him.

Leonellus looked away from the dogs only when they were joined by two men. Both of them were taller than the Prince and the slave —not that it was something _remarkable_ in any sort of way—, dressed with long capes of the same color as the sand of the desert. They carried bows and long bronze spears with them.

“Iry-pat.” both of them bowed as soon as they saw the young heir.

“Hey.” the Prince beamed, awfully friendly and colloquial. “I brought my friend to visit my father's tomb. Would you show us the way, please? I'd be very grateful.”

“Of course.” It was impossible to deny him anything with that natural grace of his.

Ahkmenrah sat down right behind Leonellus, his thighs pressed close to the slave's hips. Leonellus played with his hands a little, not being able to feel the Prince's breath on the back of his neck because of the two layers of fabric covering his head. But he could feel his doubtful hands touching his arms, not knowing where to put them when one of the Medjay took the reins of the camel to guide them.

Leonellus gasped, startled, when the camel stood up abruptly and began to walk. He was still not very used to riding, it was not something he got to do often in Rome. Ahkmenrah steadied him with his hands finally left them on him. “Okay?” he mumbled both asking if it was okay to touch him and if he wasn't too scared.

The slave nodded quickly, looking forward. The proximity made him stupidly nervous. He should be wiser than this. Back home, he never made this mistake. It was not any different, here. He decided to stop thinking, focus on something else.

The dogs were running ahead them, knowing well where they were going. There were narrow paths that made it easier to nagivate around those hills, but it was hard to find anything there if you didn't know exactly what you were looking for.

The Valley of the Kings was supposed to be a mystery even to those who lived there. Ahkmenrah only got to visit a few times. He had the feeling he would return often as he would start ruling, when they would began to dig and build his tomb. But at that very moment, Leonellus' body was far more mesmerizing than the enigmatic necropolis. He wanted to take his clothes off. He wanted to caress his arms and tilt his head to the side, kiss his neck and his jaw. Feel his nervous pulse under his lips. His skin would be warm with a delicate taste of salt.

He shouldn't be thinking about those things. Not while being so close to the slave. His lust might become obvious and then his dearest friend would distrust him. He didn't want that. The Prince wished to keep the Roman close to him for many years to come. His company was delightful, his soul was curious and his face was beautiful. What else could he ask for?

Ahkmenrah sighed and rested his forehead on Leonellus' shoulder, a little defeated. How dreadful it was to not have what you really want!

“Are you okay, Your Majesty?” Leonellus asked. Each time he sighed, there was something he wanted to say.

“Yes.” the young heir nodded. “Just let me know if you feel dizzy or thirsty. The desert can easily win a battle against any of us.”

“I will.” he nodded.

It only took a few minutes to start feeling the exhaustion. The heat was nauseating, making their foreheads pearled with sweat. Anyone could find death in there and maybe that's why they considered this had to be the last place to cross before going into the after life.

“It's beyond me why Kawab would want to call you Deshret.” Ahkmenrah confessed after a few minutes of silence. “The Red Land is unforgiving. Confusing and ruthless. Set is the one in charge to rule it; we are nothing but pawns in his domain.” and therefore, victims at his mercy. The Vizier had to see something else other than his red hair in him to give him such name. But Sekhmet herself welcomed the Roman slave into their land; he was not a threat. He was not an agent of chaos. Leonellus would not bring despair or war to his land. Neither he would corrupt it with disgrace. “You are far from that.” while he didn't know Leonellus as much as he would want to, it was clear that there was no malice in him. No hunger for power, either.

While Leonellus appreciate his words, he knew exactly why Kawab gave him that name. He still felt the pressure of the heel of his hand over his stomach if he focused on that memory. Their relationship will be _fruitless_. Nothing will come out of it, as nothing would grow in the middle of the desert. The Vizier wanted the Prince to get married and have children. That was something he couldn't get from a Roman slave boy.

He decided to entertain him with a little conversation and also keep himself from drifting off or fainting. “Maybe there's more than you see. Maybe I am a bad omen.” he joked with a far too serious voice.

“I'm sure there's more than I see.” He had so many things left to discover. “But I don't think you could bring me any negative consequence to my life.” Ahkmenrah smiled.

Leonellus couldn't help himself. He smiled and looked down, allowing the fabric of the hood to cover a big part of his face.

*** * ***

_Apollo, Sol, Ra_. All three, to anyone that was listening to him. _Be gentle with us, we mean no harm_ Leonellus thought as his head was getting heavier and heavier each time until it finally fell against Ahkmenrah's shoulder.

The Prince slipped his hand under the hood and brushed his forehead that was soaked with sweat. The slave looked even paler if possible. “We are almost there, Leonellus. Here, drink some water.” he whispered as he brought the wineskin full of water to his lips so he could drink some of it. The Roman obeyed and gulped the water that was not so fresh anymore but was still better than nothing. Leonellus closed his eyes and sighed, his body frail and almost falling off the camel. “Hey!” Ahkmenrah gasped and wrapped a strong arm around his waist.

“Sorry...” he mumbled with a thick tongue.

“It's okay. We'll hurry up. Close your eyes.” he said before he covered Leonellus' nose and mouth with his hand and splashed some water on his face to cool him down. The boy breathed against the Prince's palm and leaned back against him.

The water helped a little bit. That and the fact that they finally arrived to the tomb kept Leonellus from finally passing out. One of the Medjay picked him up and got him off the camel like he weighted nothing. Ahkmenrah thanked him for the slave who could barely speak a word. He was left inside of the entry of the tomb under the shadow. Then Ahkmenrah got the cloak off him and discovered his head completely, brushing his moist hair from his forehead. Now that was a beautiful boy, a little pale and a little dizzy but beautiful as it gets.

“Are you alright?” he cupped his face, patting his cheek softly to get those green eyes on him.

Leonellus nodded. “I need a second...” It was a miracle he was capable of speak properly.

“I'll wait.” Ahkmenrah got rid of his own cloak and sat down by his side. “It's not as hot in Rome, is it?”

The slave denied this time. “Not even close to it.” And he heard that the troops that headed North found colder lands. Leonellus thought he could tolerate lower temperatures way better. He licked his lips and rubbed the nape of his neck, opening his eyes.

Ahkmenrah smiled as soon as he looked at him. “You'll get used to it.”

“I hope so.” Because if not, it was going to get a little complicated to survive. “Now I understand why you make a distinction between Deshret and Kemet.” It was truly a matter of life and death, the first was simply uninhabitable.

“You did very well.” Ahkmenrah felt the burning need to flatter him. “It's your first time. You did great.”

“I almost fell off the camel.” Leonellus looked away, smiling small.

“ _Almost_. That's the important part.” the Prince insisted.

It was hard to feel bad about himself when the younger boy was always so kind and trying to uplift his spirit. Leonellus sighed and finally stood up, leaning a bit against the wall. As soon as he saw that it was carved and painted, he quickly stepped back to not damage the work. Ahkmenrah reached to hold his hand once he was standing, as well. He looked at their hands and offered the slave a hopeful smile, asking if the contact was okay. It truly took something Leonellus didn't have to deny him such simple demand. The Prince also took a flaming torch and he assumed that this tomb would have to be very deep for them to need more light than the one entering inside of the it.

They began to descent and Leonellus' was overwhelmed with curiosity. This land was a place of mystery and tales he did not know. He was unable to decode the scenes that decorated the walls of the tomb. “Would you tell me about it, Your Majesty?” he asked. “What comes after death?”

He knew that Mercury would take his soul to the Styx. There he would have to pay Charon to be able to cross the river and then be judged for his crimes and virtues in the mortal land. But here? He didn't know anything about what was going to happen to him once his flesh would rot.

“Death is only the beginning, Leonellus. It's a long trip towards the eternal life and the rebirth of your soul.” he explained as they entered the second corridor. “My parents told me to not be afraid. That it's not scary. Nor it has to be sad. Our family will meet again. I'll be with the one who finally captures my heart.” And those were words he _thought_ he understood. “Even when everything changes and we are no longer the same.” he offered him a soft smile. “Death seems to be something hopeful to me.”

“That's a beautiful way of thinking.” he offered. Where would he go? Would the Gods want him now that he was between two great families? Probably not. He could only hope that his soul would not fall into one big scary abyss. _The longest night_.

It wouldn't be fitting to tell him that _he_ was beautiful, right? Ahkmenrah barely knew how to handle this situation. He swallowed and nodded quickly. He approached the torch to the wall, now that the natural light was diming. “When Pharaoh dies,” He could tell him the story and then think how to please him; how to bring warmth to his cheeks, a smile to his lips, some happiness to his soul. “he travels as Ra did when the Sun set.” he showed the painting of Merenkahre on a boat sailing towards the Underworld. His arms were crossed over his chest, holding the crook and flail.

What came after that seemed to be a little bit macabre. Leonellus didn't think it looked all too hopeful to him but it was reassuring to see what both journeys would have a similar vehicle of transportation.

“The soul shall pass The Twelve Gates.” the Prince continued. He saw Goddesses he could not recognize, each one of them were crowned with a star. “Or will perish and fall into the Lake of Fire.” And that seemed to be a terrible fate for it resembled the desert they just crossed. Leonellus could see different men with different fates. They had four different skin colors and hairstyles. He didn't think like he looked like any of them[4]. “But that's not very likely to happen!” the Prince rushed to add when he saw the worry in the face of his dearest friend. “So the soul makes it to the Hall of Maat.” he said as they arrived to the following part of the tomb: a chamber with four columns.

With a quick look and squitting plenty, Leonellus could recognize Anubis and Osiris. But that was about it. There were a bunch of sitting figures on top of them and sadly, he didn't know any of them. Ahkmenrah released his hand and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, bringing him closer. Leonellus knew that he should stop him but _didn't_. He felt comfortable.

“Those are the forty-two judges. You shall address them _all_ by name.”

Leonellus frowned a bit and let out a huff. He could remember Minos, Aenaeus, and Rhadymanthas. Three was a _reasonable_ number of judges, but not forty-two.

“Don't worry about it.” he raised the torch and showed him the names on top of each sitting figure. “Here's a tip.” he beamed. “But also _must_ show that you are pure and name all the crimes you did _not_ commit.” Leonellus tried to think about his vices. He didn't think he had too many. “For example, say: _I have not stolen_.” He did steal a few grapes from the kitchen when he was little each time he got hungry. “And then Anubis will take your heart.”

“My heart?” he raised his eyebrows.

“That's the only thing left in the body after being embalmed.”

“Embalmed...?”

“I will explain it later.” Ahkmenrah replied. “He takes your heart and then he weighs it.” he showed him the scale over the God of the Dead. “If it's lighter than a feather, you are allowed to be taken to Osiris. But if it's not...” he enlightened the creature that Leonellus could only describe as a disorganized chimera: half lion, half hippopotamus and with the head of a crocodile. The Goddess Ammit. “She will eat it. You'll die a second time and your soul will be resetless. _Forever_.”

“Alright...” and he still thought death was hopeful?

“But! If you are accepted by Osiris, you'll return to the Mother Goddess' womb, and reunite with your body.” he began to walk once again and Leonellus missed that past picture.

There was another corridor, long and narrow. They were in darkness except for the torch that the Prince carried with him.

“And then, Leonellus, the most beautiful sight you've ever seen. The most beautiful thing you can dream of!” he stepped forward, walking in front of him. The slave couldn't keep himself from holding his cape to not be left in the dark. “ _Aaru_.” The chamber was _beautiful_. Way bigger than the one before, this one captured the hope that Leonellus lacked to see during the whole process. It was the picture of prosperity and abundance. “The Field of Reeds, where you'll never miss what your heart desires the most.” And then at the very end, a clear picture of father, mother and son. The Pharaoh's only wish was to be with his family after death.

When the Prince turned around, he saw the most graceful smile on the slave's face as he observed the walls around them. Would the Gods understand that he was something that he ached for? Would he be allowed to join the Aaru? _Oh, please, please, please!_

“This is...” Leonellus began, not knowing the words he wanted to speak. It was not even a matter of language: it was far more than he was ever promised as a slave. A land that will deliver and offer you what you ask for. A land with no owners. A land where a man can take what the harvest offers. No orders, no slaves. _Freedom_. “a dream.”

“You like it?” Ahkmenrah asked eagerly.

Leonellus finally looked at him and nodded.

He couldn't help himself. It was like there was something tying him close to the slave. Something he couldn't see. He cupped his face and brushed his cheek tenderly, affectionate and happy. “It will look even better when they bring my father's riches! And the Ushebti!”

“Who are the Ushebti?”

“Those who answer.” the Prince said. And as he did so, he understood he shouldn't have brought up that detail.

“... _Slaves_.” Leonellus guessed with a lower voice.

“Yes! But they are not real!” Ahkmenrah rushed to add. “The slaves are not killed and buried after Pharaoh dies anymore... Turns out it was such a bother to replace them all.” he sounded frivolous and even _he_ noticed. “Because they are important. And because...” he cleared his throat. “It's not... They are not... The Ushebti are only figurines, Leonellus.” he bit his lower lip and touched the slave's chin, tenderly. His eyes were apologetic even in the dark. “I can show them to you when we go back.”

“I believe you.” he mumbled, looking down. It didn't sound _barbaric_ or _new_. If a Dominus or a Domina got killed, the slaves _had_ to end their lives or they would be seen as disloyal. It only made him sad to be constantly aware of his lack of control over his own life.

The Prince brushed his thumb over the slave's soft chin. Leonellus blinked and sighed. He looked up because he could tell that he was sorry and it would be unfair to blame him for something that slipped out of his mouth. He was growing soft. _Stupid_. This tenderness for the Prince would bring him misery.

Leonellus rested his hand over his wrist.

Ahkmenrah, who was quite young and very bad at reading signs, thought that such tender touch had to mean something other than forgiveness. He breathed a little deeper and it was a miracle that he didn't drop the torch. He took a step forward and thought that maybe this was the right time.

Surely it _wasn't_.

Leonellus knew there was something wanting to bloom in his chest. Pure tenderness that might grow and become something more intimate if he wasn't careful. He tilted his head back and escaped the Prince's fingers. “Embalming?” he breathed. He promised he would explain.

“Huh...?” Ahkmenrah's eyelids were heavy with desire, his gaze a little sad because of the missed chance. “Mhm.” he blinked and swallowed. “ _Right_.”

The slave played with his fingers and kept his eyes on him, a little wide and expecting something. _Anything_. Would he get mad for being rejected? He had to be the one to force some common sense into this situation. A Prince can use and toss a slave without any consequences. He almost got killed twice, he should be wiser than engaging in games of passion and lust.

Ahkmenrah forced himself to not take this as rejection. His friend was probably still confused. Or doubtful. He shouldn't put him in an uncomfortable position. He could only blame it on himself and the fact that he barely knew how to seduce someone. But something he could do was explain the process of embalming and see how Leonellus' face grew horrified as he explained him about the canopi jars and all the organs that were extracted.

*** * ***

In their way back, Ahkmenrah suggested if he wanted to visit the Valley of the Queens. When Leonellus asked if his mother had her tomb there, the Prince denied and said that it was his parents' wish to share the very same tomb. That had to be a symbol of eternal love. And since the slave feared the desert and doubted that he would survive another long trip, he said that maybe they could come back another day and see where the Prince's tomb would be built.

It was when they crossed the hill back to the boat that Leonellus finally passed out, unable to make the same trip twice in less than a few hours.

When the Roman woke up, Ahkmenrah was sitting on the deck with him, with his hands holding his. His thumb brushed over his knuckles. He was wearing his jewelry once again, he could feel his rings over his skin.

Leonellus sighed and rubbed his forehead, feeling a little dizzy and tired. The Prince noticed he was back right away. “How are you?” he asked, with clear concern in his voice. He patted his hand gently.

“Fine...” he closed his eyes again, needing a couple of seconds. “But I don't think I should be allowed to ever walk out of the palace again.” Each time he does, something happens.

“Nonsense! You are not a prisoner.” Ahkmenrah smiled. “We'll go out when the Sun is gentle.” Leonellus nodded and began to try to sit up. “No, no. Rest. We still have a couple of hours ahead us.” the Prince laid down by his side and turned his head to look at him. “I had fun, though.” He got to show him part of his land and discover the great mystery of death. “I like having a companion with me, Leonellus. Being alone is truly not that much fun.” he beamed. There was so much honesty in his lips and eyes. A few animals through the years entertained him, but he never had someone he could consider a dear friend. Someone that would have a similar age and spend the whole day with him. Maybe that was another reason why he wanted to please him so bad and keep him so close.

Leonellus' foolish heart ached just to think about the Prince spending far too much time alone and wishing to have someone he could share anecdotes and adventures with. He never had a friend and he had to remind himself that the Prince was not his friend, either. He was his... confidant, entertainer, Fan-Bearer... Whatever he would feel like it. But either way, he couldn't help himself. He felt like he took a step forward and then two backwards each time, not knowing where to stand. Not wanting to be too close to the future Pharaoh, but not wanting to force separation upon them two. Not when the boy was so _bright_.

The slave rested his hand over the young heir's and smiled at him. “I had fun, too.”

“Even if you fainted?” he asked eagerly.

Leonellus snorted and nodded. “Even if I fainted.”

Ahkmenrah bit his lower lip and while it was clear that he made a mistake inside of his father's tomb, assuming that the slave wanted to be kissed, he couldn't help but think that things could end up going well for the both of them.

Oh, Hathor, he only need a little help.

*** * ***

As promised, Ahkmenrah spent the following day fulfilling his duties.

When he left his chambers that morning it truly felt like Leonellus was about to be sent away as soon as he would step out. He reassured him that he wouldn't he going anywhere. He didn't have much to do other than follow the Prince around so he spent plenty of hours taking care of their three cats and the naughty monkey who loved to pester the felines by pulling their tails as soon as they weren't watching. It was like taking care of four children.

Funny enough, as soon as he thought that, Leonellus heard the door of the bedroom opening. He smiled a bit, thinking that the oldest kid he looked after —that being the Prince— came back. Instead, he saw three little heads poking through the partly open door. He heard them whisper to each other, like he didn't notice they were discussing what to do while spying on him. Leonellus turned around, pretending he was still unaware of their presence. He picked Rubra up before she could start get another fight with Idu.

Finally, they decided to speak up.

“We demand to see the Prince!” said the eldest, a girl with big eyes and a firm voice. She couldn't be any older than ten.

“Who asks for him?” Leonellus couldn't help but smile some more, finally facing them. The middle sibling was a boy who reminded him to Numerius because he looked shy and out of place. He held the hand of the youngest, another girl with a very wide smile who clearly couldn't walk much all by herself.

“Iset! His niece!” she replied, tilting her chin up. Leonellus felt the need to fix her crooked wig and pinch her cheeks.

“Your Majesty.” Leonellus kneeled on the floor and his forehead almost touched the floor. That's how he was taught to greet the Pharaoh, but he felt that the little girl would enjoy seeing herself as a future heir to the throne. When he sat over his knees and rested his hands on his lap, she was smiling a little arrogant and awfully pleased. “I'm afraid he's not here, right now.”

“Where is he?” she frowned as her little brother couldn't help but notice the three cats that walked to meet their guests. She smiled but didn't let them distract her.

“Last time I saw him, he was going to meet the Vizier.”

“Oh, that old boring man!” Iset huffed and crossed her arms.

Leonellus licked his lips to keep himself from showing too much amusement.

“Would you tell me your sibling's names?” he asked, giving her the chance to take control. The boy looked shy and the girl far too little to talk properly.

“This is my brother Amenhotep and my sister Nebet. Menes is far too little. She doesn't walk or... do anything.” she rolled her eyes. “But! _You_ should know who _we_ are. _We_ know who _you_ are. ”

“Do you really?”

“Yes! Your name is Deshret. You are...” she frowned a little bit and looked at her brother from the corner of her eyes. The boy very clearly whispered: _Rome_. “A Roman slave boy. Red. A gift from Set.” They will never let him get rid of that fame. “Does your hair burn like fire?” Because the little girl heard foolish rumors and her wild imagination wanted to believe them. On the other hand, she wanted to look brave in front of her siblings. “Looks like flames... a little!”

“You want to test that?” Leonellus offered.

Iset nodded right away and the slave tilted his head forward. He felt her little hand patting the crown of his head and then tugging gently. Another hand joined. Her brother's, he assumed. They were both rather tender and careful. When he looked at them, Iset nodded, pleased with the answer. Amenhotep bit his lower lip and looked down, clearly ashamed.

Just like Numerius.

He extended his hand and caressed his cheek, sweetly. The boy did his best to return his smile and fidgeted a bit: “My uncle has... a monkey...” he began, still holding his little sister's hand. “Could we... play with him? And the kitties?” That was a new addition they liked very much, it seems.

“Of course.” he nodded. How could he say no? Leonellus always had a soft spot for children. Maybe it was because he didn't really get to enjoy life as a child. All of them should cherish those years without any burden or fear.

And because they didn't have nor wanted any responsibility, the little sister was given to Leonellus. The toddler smiled up at him, quickly trusting him. She must have gotten that from her uncle, for sure. In matter of minutes, Nebet was cuddling the slave as he carried her on his left hip, looking after the other two siblings, making sure that the animals wouldn't hurt them while playing around.

Ahkmenrah arrived about an hour later, willing to complain and whine as much as possible to obtain some affection and care from the redhead. He even practiced his sad tired face before he arrived to the door of his chambers. Once he thought he had the perfect expression of misery, he opened the door silently and heard giggles and rushed footsteps going from one side to the other.

Ever since the slave arrived to his life, Ahkmenrah only had eyes for him and forgot about everybody and everything else. His duties and his nieces and nephew included. Sure he had to learn how to not distract himself to that extreme. Or stop being mesmerized by the Roman boy. Whatever that would be easier.

Still, as soon as he saw them playing with their pets, the Prince smiled and closed the door after him without making any sound. He approached them, without anyone noticing him, far too focused on seeing how Idu decided to mess with Rubra and keep testing his luck.

“Here comes Mau[5]!” the Prince roared as he wrapped each arm around both brother and sister, raising them up.

The kids gasped, startled, but quickly grew happy and cheerful, kissing their uncle's cheeks and embracing him. Leonellus was not surprised that he was good with children. He had the kindness of one, yet to be corrupted by violence or hatred. He smiled so sweetly and approached the young heir when he felt little Nebet leaning towards her uncle, wanting to join all those kisses she was missing. Ahkmenrah rubbed the tip of his nose against her chubby cheek before he smooched it plenty of times.

Leonellus could never respect or love someone that would mistreat a child. Seeing the Prince in that kind of situation only made his heart grow even fonder of him.

 _Let this gentle river take you and find yourself lost in the sea_.

*** * ***

Leonellus' attitude changed since that afternoon. When they were alone, he rested a hand on Ahkmenrah's shoulder or forearm. When he took the flabellum, sometimes he tickled his cheek with the feathers to make him smile. The Prince's innocence was contagious and it made a part of the slave, that was killed years ago, want to come back to life. He felt playful. He wanted to indulge in foolish games. He wanted to be close to him. Capture some of that light. Let the Sun make him all warm and pure once again. The descendant of Ra had to be the right one for that task.

And while Ahkmenrah absolutely adored the attention he was getting and how close Leonellus was becoming —even if, once again, it was never in public—, he didn't forget the rejection he experienced when they were in his father's tomb. Leonellus was his friend. And he had to protect him from those who might want to harm him again, but... It's been a week of this and Ahkmenrah has never been touched like _that_ , with such familiarity. Only by his parents, and yet it was entirely different. His stomach burned with the slave. His jaw became tight and his palms all clammy and he... felt unlike himself. He felt _feral_ when that happened.

Sometimes he caught himself thinking about ripping the slave's tunic, leaving him naked and exposed right under him. He wanted to bite his neck and his shoulders, hold his wrists and not let him move. _At all_. He would do what Pharaoh would ask from him, while enjoying it far more than he would want to admit. And to see Leonellus smile so sweetly when he caught him daydreaming about such intimate fantasy made him feel guilty and mortified.

“Your mind must be a fruitful garden.” Leonellus said with that voice Ahkmenrah loved to hear.

The Prince smiled, ashamed and looking down. “Nothing worth sharing.”

“I'd listen.” the slave offered.

He was sure that he would. Leonellus always listened to him, even when he spoke foolish words and he had to scold him. But how would he react? He wouldn't want him to think that he was like those vicious men from Rome, willing to take anything in front of them. Ahkmenrah respected Leonellus past his condition of a slave. He respected him because... for some reason that only Hathor could understand, he was infatuated with the boy.

“It's alright, Leonellus, I just...” he licked his lips and stood up from his throne. The Fan-Bearer lowered the flabellum and observed him. “I think I am a little bit tired.” Maybe he could do something about it. Maybe he could tame the beast inside of him. Soothe it and keep himself from feeling so guilty about all those thoughts he was having.

Or have _someone_ _else_ do that for him...

Because there were people whose work was to _relieve_ those who had the money. He knew that. He wasn't _that_ oblivious.

Maybe that was what he was supposed to do.

He handled his desires well enough until that very moment. Perhaps a little clumsy and somehow painful at times after the intervention he had as soon as he turned eighteen. But it _worked_. So he took care of it while being alone, either that or let it burn his stomach for far too many nights.

But Leonellus was now with him. All day long because the Prince demanded his company. The slave was his very fantasy but at the same time who restricted him from achieving as much pleasure as he craved. Close enough to look and smell, but not close enough to touch and taste.

He had to do something to be able to maintain his affable nature around the redhead or he would get _sick_.

As they walked back to his room, Leonellus asked if children weren't obliged to wear purple in public. It took the Prince a little bit to answer, since it was both displeasing and frustrating to focus on anything childish when his thoughts were strictly related to adulthood and desire. He denied and the slave explained him that while purple was a color of wealth, the children would wear a white toga with a purple border so those around them would understand that they were in need of protection. Ahkmenrah barely listened as Leonellus also told him about the bulla and lunula[6] while he played with his own amulet. _Protects them from bad spirits until adulthood_ , he finally concluded.

Ahkmenrah smiled but he couldn't tell for sure if he captured any of that information. It was quite clear that the Roman was very invested in the protection of the youngests members of their society and their safety. That made him look honest and noble, and while Ahkmenrah knew that he wouldn't have any children, he wanted Leonellus to raise those that would continue his legacy. There was something awfully intimate in the idea of the red slave nurturing, protecting and caring for those that could be considered his descendant to the eyes of his country. Almost like they would be _married_.

Another wave of unstoppable desire twisted his stomach and he breathed heavily. Assuming that he bored him with that small gesture, Leonellus silenced himself and opened the door of the Prince's chambers for him.

Ahkmenrah barely undressed, scared that his body could understand that something that was out of his reach could happen. He only dropped his cape and removed his bracelets and wesekh. Leonellus, as usual, picked everything that fell to the floor and folded it neatly. He had the habit to leave everything tidy. Ahkmenrah laid on his back and looked at him while he nibbled his nails. The slave whispered something under his breath and removed the Prince's sandals. He offered him a coy smile. Leonellus patted his shin and walked towards his little corner in the room.

The Prince heard him talk to the cats in Latin and Ahkmenrah closed his eyes. He was tired but he wouldn't be able to get any sleep. He knew that. His lower stomach was all tense and his legs stiff over the blanket. He would want to turn over and lay on his stomach, but then it would be too obvious.

He waited. He waited for longer than an hour, until he thought that Leonellus was sleeping. Then, very careful and barely making a sound, he stood up from the bed and grabbed the same cloak he wore when they visited his father's tomb.

As soon as Ahkmenrah closed the door, Leonellus turned around. He knew that the Prince wasn't even sleeping, to begin with. He usually snored lightly. The fact he was unusually quiet tonight only revealed the fact that he was making time before sneaking out.

The slave bit his lip and considered if he should go after him. On one hand, if he waited until he thought he was asleep, it was because he didn't want him around. On the other hand, he was curious and he wouldn't want him to get hurt. And maybe he still felt a little uneasy by not having the Prince around even if he still had the little cats that were supposed to _protect_ him.

Leonellus made sure that the three of them were still sleeping and Idu was comfortable in his cage before he also grabbed his cloak and walked after the Prince. The two guards by the doors looked at him but then one of them snorted and grinned, pointed at the direction where the Prince went. Whatever he was thinking it was going to happen... It was not that. The Roman slave didn't stop himself to explain it. He only nodded before he began to walk.

He kept the distance as soon as he saw him and he noticed that they weren't leaving the palace through the main doors. Those were on the back of the royal building, where there was mud instead of sand. Leonellus truly regretted not wearing any sandals, almost tripping a couple of times. He would beg to get his old and almost ruined sandals. It was better than nothing.

The slave had to rush it a little bit to not lose him among the people of Men-Nefer. The streets were as crowded at night as they were in Rome. It was not so different, after all. It was loud and there were some either started working or didn't finish and others, the lucky ones, who were spending money or drinking. Thankfully, Leonellus didn't catch their attention. And neither did Ahkmenrah because no one kneeled or praised him.

Where were they going?

It didn't take much longer before Leonellus saw the Prince slipping inside of a rather large house. He caressed the polished marble that covered the outside, rather curiously, and saw the flowers falling over the balconies and the scent of incense coming out of the windows. And tangled to that smell, there was something heavier in the air. _Salt_. Salt and...

“Oh...” he couldn't help but whisper lowly as he finally started to hear the faint moaning that came from inside of the house. Leonellus saw plenty of brothels in Rome. This was only new because he was not used to not hear anyone howling to get the clients' attention. And perhaps that the building was far more... refined than what he was used to. In fact, it did look more like a temple than a Lupanar.

Then came the doubt: should he try to see what the Prince was trying to do there? Well, it was rather obvious, wasn't it? But he didn't think he _needed_ it... Handsome and kind as the Prince was, any boy would want to lay with him. Even Leonellus himself thought about that idea a couple of times during the last week, ever since he saw the tenderness he offered to his nieces and nephew. But then he quickly reminded himself his place and how he refused to become a plaything in this new land as well. Ahkmenrah also confessed feeling lonely and often lost. But that couldn't be all, right? Maybe the boy was shy. New at this and wanted to learn something worth showing to his future partner before the proper act.

Leonellus approached the door and peered inside, trying to hide as much as possible behind the doorframe. He couldn't see him anymore.

A delicate and warm arm wrapped around him, craddling his back and holding his elbow over the dusty and dirty cloak. The slave gasped startled as soon as he felt the contact. When he turned his face, a beautiful sight greeted him. The woman had to be about a decade older than he was, with bright red lips, dark eyes and wearing a faience-beaded net dress.

“Don't be scared.” she said soothingly. “I am not going to hurt you.”

Leonellus grew a little distrusting ever since he was almost eaten alive by a lioness and bitten by an asp. He pressed his lips and looked down. After a second of doubt, he tried to step away from her.

“None of that.” she encouraged him to step forward and inside of the _brothel_. “Look at you. Let me clean you and give you something worth wearing.”

When she said that, Leonellus understood that he probably looked like a beggar, with his feet covered in mud and wearing the shapeless cloak.

“I don't need it, I already belong to someone.” he finally spoke, looking around and seeing that the inside truly looked like a temple. A smaller one, but not so different from Sekhmet's. This one was far more explicit. The God Atum masturbated on the carvings of the wall and originated the act of creation and the twins Shu and Tefnut. He also saw the Goddess Isis copulating with the corpse of Osiris. He found that myth a little _disturbing_ and quickly looked away. Back to reality. “I will get in trouble, I should go back.”

“It's not my intention to take you away, but to make you lovely as you can be.” The only difference between this temple and the Goddess' was the fact that this one was plagued with smaller chambers and stairs that took them to the upper level. And the very obvious love making that was happening behind closed _or_ open doors.

Leonellus decided to give in by now. The quieter he acts, the sooner he would be allowed to leave and the less likely it would be for the Prince to notice his presence.

The woman led him to a lonely and small chamber, enlightened by one oil lamp. She sat the slave down over the rugs and the cushions. The redhead felt awfully uncomfortable because the moaning was closer and a little louder.

She slipped her hands under his tunic and brushed it down his arms. Leonellus looked away, awfully uncomfortable.

“Funny thing, Nabk...” she murmured as soon as she discovered him: his face, his hair, his clothes. Red. _Nabk_... He heard that word before. When Ahkmenrah encouraged him to eat some berries with him. “You look _untouched_ but you are not. So I assume you were touched by those who didn't know how to do it.” she rubbed her thumbs over his shoulders, feeling the fabric. Rich.

Pale and red. Wearing rich clothes: spoiled. Someone's favourite. She _heard_ about him.

“I'm not...” Leonellus cleared his throat, misunderstanding her words. “I am not here for _that_.”

“I was not offering and you clearly don't have any money.” she pinched his cheek in a way that left clear that she saw him as a lost cause and not as a client. Prostitutes only laid with priests and those who could afford it, that were a very few[7]. For sure it was not like Rome. Here, it was practically a sacred act. “And I bet that the Prince wouldn't be happy if anyone touched his little fox.” she hummed as she held his left ankle and began to wash his feet on a basin.

Leonellus _hated_ it each time he was taken care of. He would rather offer submission instead of receiving it. But that was not what bothered him the most. They knew about him? That's the fame that he had? “He...” he licked his lips. “His Majesty would never...” he tried.

“Some saw how he raised you up and sat you down on Apis.” he did it in front of practically the entire city. “Surely he was trying to see if you could handle the might of a bull.” her eyebrows disappeared under the bangs of her wig. Leonellus huffed. “He looks delicate and sweet. That's the kind I like the most. They love to hold you down, bite your flesh. But then they whisper beautiful things on your ear. Reward you if you handle all of their passion.”

His stomach burned as much as his cheeks did. That never happened before. Not with Galeatus, not with the other tutors from other families that tried to caress his thighs to get his attention. They were never worth his attention. But the Prince... Well, he was different. And Leonellus struggled to stop himself from being so stupid. If he falls in love with him, he will lose the very little that he still has: his life and his good judgment. He focused his eyes on the window and the flowers decorating it. He whispered, perhaps a little sad, perhaps too quiet: “Not at all.”

“Do you desire him?” How very simple to ask. How tremendously complicated to answer.

Leonellus closed his eyes and sighed. _Yes_ , Venus whispered on his ear, her hands toying with his heart. Cruel Goddess. _Let him take control of you. Let him do whatever he wants to you. He'll find out about every single thing that you like_. He didn't answer her question and merely mumbled: “I followed him here.” He didn't want him if he needed the company of someone who was an expert, did he? “Because I was _worried_.”

“He's not your child.” she began to wash his other foot with a knowing smirk on her red lips. “You are as young as he is. Both of you are supposed to _understand_ each other. Now is the proper time. No need to wait for anything.”

“I _respect_ him.” Leonellus frowned when he said that. He did. He trusted him. So far, Ahkmenrah protected him, feed him, clothed him. Spoke to him with kindness and showed him as much as Leonellus wanted to discover. That was new. And maybe it was _only_ that: that he missed being treated with some decency.

“That's important. It's the first step towards _love_.”

 _No_.

No, that's how things get messy and painful. He was not the first slave to be taken aback and smitten by a kind owner. That didn't make them equals. That didn't make them... _anything_. He was not going to be ruined for something that was not going to last.

Leonellus took advantage of his moist feet and slipped away of her grasp before he stood up. “I apologize for the inconvenience. Please don't tell him that I was here.”

Love! How stupid! How impossible! He would have learned nothing from all his years as a slave if he now merely fell for someone who was tender with him. He was not a little fool. He was not a child and love was not something he either needed or craved.

Ahkmenrah went to the brothel with a very clear idea: release some of that lust that could end up risking his friendship with Leonellus. He also knew what he wanted: nothing too intimate. Perhaps hands or mouth, no more than that. He didn't even think how shameful it could be if he got recognized, but if he paid them more than necessary, then he knew that he would also obtain their silence.

When they stood in line, the Prince kept his eyes on the boys. None of them looked like Leonellus. But they didn't have to. It was better if they didn't or if not his mind would play a twisted game that he would want to remember while being around the Roman boy. He tried to decide which one he wanted, but... He was _unable_ to. It was Leonellus' body that he craved. It was his sweet voice that he wanted to hear. It was his sweat that he wanted to taste.

He stood there for minutes, in silence as his heart raced. He knew that he was going to make a mistake and feel guilty about it. The Prince turned around and walked out of the room when someone who came from upstairs bumped into him. He frowned and turned around. When he saw Leonellus right there, he felt _mortified_.

Not that the slave felt any more confident. “Oh, Gorgons!” he cursed under his breath, quietly, as the woman finally reached him and placed his cloak over his shoulders. And because she didn't see the Prince's face under the hood, she caressed the boy's cheek for she thought that he would need plenty of help from Hathor to let the flower of love bloom and tangle its roots on his heart.

Ahkmenrah didn't like the gesture so he captured her wrist and moved her hand away from his friend's face. Then it was when she could see him properly. He stopped her before she had time to kneel on the ground. “An empty room. No one is allowed to come in.” he demanded.

And she was quick to please him. The Prince covered his face with his hands as soon as she closed the door and left them alone. “I hate this!” he groaned. Leonellus looked down at the floor and hoped to the Gods that he wouldn't whip him as soon as they would arrive to the palace. Would he still be fond of him if he did that? Probably not. “I am so embarrassed! Oh, Leonellus, why would you follow me here?!”

“I was worried you could get into trouble or lost.” Leonellus replied.

“I'm not the stranger, here!” the Prince huffed. “I might not go out of the palace often but I know where... I'm going.”

“I didn't know you knew your way here well. I apologize.” the slave nodded.

“What? No!” Ahkmenrah insisted. He didn't like what he was trying to imply. “This... This is the first time I come here.”

“If you say so, Your Majesty.”

“I mean it! You have to believe me!”

 _Poor thing_. Leonellus decided to put into practice everything that he learned from Kyrillos and his years as a tutor of two kids. Ahkmenrah was clearly insecure like one, right now. He smiled and stepped forward, resting a hand on his arm. “There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You feel curious about new things. It's only normal that you want to indulge and satisfy that itch. You don't have to hide for feeling something so normal, Your Majesty.” he spoke lowly, sweetly. “But I don't think you should leave in the middle of the night. Once again, you could get lost or hurt.”

Ahkmenrah blinked, unable to believe that Leonellus spoke to him like _that_ about that matter. “Why are you talking to me like I am a little child?”

“Not a little child, you are starting to see the joys of adultho—”

“You _are_ talking to me like I am a stupid boy.” Ahkmenrah interrupted him, taking a step closer. The slave raised his chin a little and stepped back. “That's how you see me? That's what I am to you? A little boy you need to guide?” He didn't even see him as a man? A man he could dream about? Ahkmenrah didn't want Leonellus to comfort him while holding him against his chest. He wanted to kiss his hands and bruise his thighs. “You are not much older than I am.” Another step forward and Leonellus' back ended up pressed against the wall behind him. The moans of other couples were now a little more muffled, less intrusive. “I _am_ a man. And not only that, when my time comes, I'll be _the man_ everybody will respect and fear if I want them to.” No, he wished to be loved and admired, never feared. But he was trying to make a point.

“I didn't mean to disrespect you.” Leonellus mumbled, finding it complicated to speak. He was too close. He stood tall, and while Ahkmenrah was a little shorter than he was, it felt like he was towering him. It was the way he carried himself. The way he was raised and the power he had behind him. Leonellus found it _dizzying_. “I couldn't help myself, it will never happen again. You are allowed to discover as much as you want without having to do so under supervision.”

It was not like so much that he felt disrespected but frustrated. He didn't want him to see him as a little boy. No one felt attracted towards a little boy. He didn't want only fondness. But what could he do to make him understand? Ahkmenrah continued to frown, looking at him very closely with his grey eyes. “ _Discover_.” he couldn't help but repeat.

“There's always a first time for everything.” Leonellus decided that his theory about the Prince having no experience when it comes to love was the one that made more sense.

He wasn't wrong. But that, to Ahkmenrah, seemed to be a reminder of the fact that he was not fully a grown up, yet. Like that part was missing. “How much do you know about first times?” It sounded so accusative. Leonellus was touched by someone whose name made his stomach twist even if he never saw his face or spoke to the man.

Leonellus looked down and shrugged weakly. His was not worth remembering. Neither it was a sad experience. It only happened way after it was supposed to. And he didn't mind. He saw other slaves flourishing before he did and having to deal with plenty of attention while being too young to know how to handle it. At least, when it happened, Leonellus was aware of what was going to happen and what he could or couldn't expect. He was ready and that was _enough_.

But Ahkmenrah was different. He was a Prince, worth loving. A first time for a good man should be something beautiful enough to write poems about. He raised his hand again, hoping to be more reassuring, this time. He caressed his cheek with his thumb, cupping his jaw. The Prince's eyelashes flickered. He knew that his touch worked to calm him down. He had to be wise about this. “Enough to know that you might feel like a curious child about it.”

And there was the word once again. Perhaps it was because Leonellus didn't know another word he could use in that sentence. A childish curiosity was not strictly related to age but the naivety one could feel towards the unknown: without fear.

It didn't make the Prince happy.

Ahkmenrah grabbed his wrist and held it close to his face, keeping the slave from touching him. The Prince was well aware that as long as the redhead's hand would be in contact with his skin, he wouldn't be able to say anything against him. “This is the last time you _ever_ call me a child.”

There was _something_ in that statement and the way that he said it —firmly, not looking away at any moment. Surely he wasn't pleading or asking. He was demanding and Leonellus felt his body going weaker. Many times before this he has been ordered to do things, but not once he obtained any sort of thrill out of it. Daily life and common tasks did not make his blood rush. This was completely different: something new and that he didn't know how to handle. He was sure that his heart became louder and that the Prince would be able to feel his nervous heartbeat since he was still holding his wrist. Would that be too revealing? Too obvious? Not finding his voice, the Roman tilted his head back over the wall and nodded. His eyes far too dark in that quiet room. _Oh, you fool, it wasn't me_ , Venus breathed, _I don't carry any arrows_.

Ahkmenrah had no experience. He was naïve and in the same way that he thought he saw something in his father's tomb, now he missed the very clear reaction from the slave. He only saw that moment of desire as defeat. He pressed his lips and furrowed his nose. It was clear that he understood the message, so he didn't wish to become any more strict with the slave. “We are leaving.” he decided before he turned around and began to pull his wrist so he would follow him.

It was a little shameful to have to walk after him like he was about to be grounded. He remembered walking Aulus back home like that he misbehaved and disobeyed him in public. While striking your students was encouraged, Leonellus never found the viciousness in his heart to hit those he was meant to teach and protect. That didn't mean he didn't correct them when it was necessary.

Maybe this was a way to let him know how embarrassing it was to be treated as a child when you no longer feel like one. At least no one recognized them.

When the got closer to the palace, Ahkmenrah stopped. Leonellus did the same after him and looked at him, in silence. The Prince huffed and turned around. “It's covered in mud, I'll pick you up.”

“No.” Leonellus frowned. That would be mortifying. He was not a kid and therefore he won't be carried around.

“Come here right now.” Ahkmenrah grumbled, stepping forward instead of pulling the slave closer. He truly couldn't be mean to him. He released his hand and before Leonellus could step away or run towards the mud and back inside the castle, he wrapped an arm around is waist and pressed him tightly against him as the slave tried to push him away with his forearms. Then, from there, it was rather easy because the redhead couldn't fight him with everything that he had. Ahkmenrah slid his arm behind his knees and raised him up. The slave was mostly skin, bones and a bunch of fabrics. He didn't need to be all too strong to be able to carry him.

Leonellus huffed, loathing the experience and feeling incredibly nervous. It wasn't enough with just feeling how weak he could become for the Prince that now he had to be in his arms? And treated like a little boy? That was exactly how Ahkmenrah felt: the same grade of discomfort and shame.

“Oh, don't complain.” he muttered, frowning a bit. “I am only helping you.”

Helping? How so? His skin was itching and Leonellus didn't even dare to move, scared that he might touch him or smell him too much. He might not be able to think properly if that happens. “I don't wish to be helped.” he hissed.

The reaction to that was _instantaneous_. Ahkmenrah left him on the ground once again. It was awfully displeasing to feel the cold mud under his feet but at least he didn't drop him. “Do whatever you want, I am tired of trying to please you tonight.” The Prince said as he continued to walk forward. He even kicked his sandals and let them sink in the mud once he made it past the threshold to not make the palace all dirty. How easy it was for him. He only had to ask for new shoes if he wanted them.

Only because Leonellus knew how dreadful was the task of cleaning, he sat down over the marble and cleaned his feet with the fabric of the cloak. It was not very hygenic, but he was planning on solving that right away.

The Prince didn't wait for him and when the slave slipped inside of his chambers, he was laying down with his eyes closed. Clearly he won't be talking to him more tonight. Leonellus descended down the stairs and washed his cloak in the clear waters of the Nile. Once he was done and both feet and cloak were completely clean, he left the garment over the upper stairs. The morning Sun would dry it and make it warm if he had to use it again any time soon.

After that, he laid down on his cot and took Niveus out of the basket, cuddling him against his chest for some comfort. The tabby cat was always the one willing to obtain and receive as much affection as possible.

*** * ***

The next morning, the Prince refused to wake up early.

Leonellus looked at him from his cot as the three cats stirred and walked around the room, trying to inspect and figure out if there was something they could eat around them. The slave sighed and decided to let him sleep. He brought the cloak inside of the room and picked Ahkmenrah's clothes from the floor. The Prince was stubborn enough to keep his eyes closed and ignore the slave as he continued to make it all tidy and clean.

It was only when he finished that Leonellus knew he would have to speak to him first once again if he wanted to make things right. By that time, Ahkmenrah was laying his back, with his arms crossed and looking at Ater who was rubbing his head against his elbow.

The red slave kneeled on the floor, in front of the bed, and rested a hand over the mattress and close to the dark furry animal. He caressed his back and Ahkmenrah looked at Leonellus from the corner of his eyes when the cat started to purr. Niveus quickly made sure to lay down and rest his head over the slave's knee. Rubra, on the other hand, sat on the floor and looked up at the monkey's cage. The war between them was never over. “I'd like to talk to you.”

“I was trying to do the right thing, last night.” Ahkmenrah grew defensive. “I don't think I demand too much from you. I'm not a child. And I didn't think it was necessary for you to smear mud all over the corridor.”

“It was a sensible decision.” Leonellus sighed. But it came after a very uncomfortable night with plenty of revelations and accusations. “I overreacted. I apologize.”

“You don't have to.” Ahkmenrah rubbed his face and Ater took that chance to lay on his chest. “I don't... You are not a maid that has to look after me. I want you to be my friend. I'm not a child.” the Prince keep insisting. “I'm _not_.”

“I know, it's just...” Leonellus licked his lips and sighed. He is going to make this worse. He wanted to open up. He wanted to let him know about things he didn't know if he should share. The more he lets him see him as he is, the more chances he has to feel rejected by him. “In Rome... I was a tutor, a _paedagogus_.”

“I thought you were a slave...” Ahkmenrah frowned.

“I was.” Then he corrected himself: “I _am_. The tutors are either slaves or freedmen. Each house has at least one, to raise the children of the family.” He kept one hand on Niveus and the other on Ater, petting them just as tenderly and smoothly. “When Kyrillos died, I was supposed to take his place. I was only sixteen summers.” he bit his lower lip. He remembered that time as the saddest in his life. Tutors were usually at least twice his age but Parvus didn't want to waste money in another slave and Leonellus already knew everything that he was meant to teach his kids. “I enjoyed my task. Way better than everything I ever did before that age.” It would had been wonderful if that didn't imply the death of the older slave. “I was the tutor of Numerius and Aulus.” Titus, too, for the first two years, but he never liked to think about that beastly child. Leonellus needed to take a break. “My whole life ever since was all about raising them and taking care of them. They were my life. Their safety was my responsibility. And... I left. I had to leave.” Because of him, in a way. “Without saying goodbye, without...” It hurt too much to say that he didn't get to tell them how much he loved them and the fact that he knew that they would grow to become honorable, fair and brave men. “I guess I had to put my worry somewhere else. You, being a year younger than me, seemed to be enough of a reason.” Leonellus sighed and closed his eyes when Ahkmenrah cupped his face. He has been trying very hard to not think about them, lately. “I'm sorry.” he breathed.

“It's okay...” Ahkmenrah whispered, slowly sitting up.

“I know... It's so stupid, I know. We are not meant to get so fond of them. But they were the first students I ever had. Numerius was four and Aulus was only two and...” He knew that in the same moment he would start speaking about them, he would cry. And he didn't use them as a tactic to be forgiven. He knew, deep in his heart, that he was desperate to look after someone else. He liked to take that role. He liked to make sure that others were happy and protected. _It's in your heart, you can't fight your nature_ , Kyrillos said once, _you are very much like me, my sweet boy_. “And I know it sounds so stupid but... Somehow, when I left... It felt like they took my children away from me.” he snorted and a couple of tears rolled down his eyes. _Oh, fool! No more weakness in front of the master!_ “It doesn't make any sense!” He was not old enough to have fathered them, to begin with. “But I know I would have protected and loved them more than their parents could ever have. And now they are alone with them... And perhaps they have a new tutor and they forgot about me...” he rubbed his face and cleaned his cheeks. Needed a couple of seconds to calm down. “But none of that matters. I want you to be safe. And happy. And protected. I believe you deserve it. But you are correct. You are a man.” Leonellus nodded. “So I will treat you as such.”

Ahkmenrah looked so sad after hearing about those two kids. He knew that Leonellus was a slave and that he seemed to have a _lover_ he didn't care about. But other than that? Not much. To see him under the light of a caretaker and a mentor explained plenty about him. And for him to admit that he had to put his worry and perhaps his care or even love somewhere else felt _touching_. He still didn't wish to be treated like a kid, but he understood it implied that he had an honest feeling towards him.

He cupped his face with both hands and caressed his cheeks with his thumbs. “Leonellus...”

“I have a very weak spirit.” Leonellus confessed. “I've always had.” His honesty was often seen as lack of care or kindness but he was awfully devoted to those he loved. And because he was so soft and tender to them, his spirit was very unlike to many men from Rome. “You shouldn't try to comfort me. It will only get worse.”

“I want to.” the Prince mumbled, helping him to get off the floor and join him on the bed. The slave sighed as he caressed his arms before he gently held the back of his neck and made him lean against him. The Prince held him tenderly and Leonellus rested his cheek over his left shoulder. “I can't compete with what you left behind but I can try to make you as happy as possible while you are here.”

Only the effort was worth appreciation. Leonellus smiled and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around his waist. He felt the Prince's lips against his scalp and he brushed his nose against his neck. He smells good, he feels good. Warm and tender. Sweet and forgiving. Caring and a little clueless. His soul told him he was the one was for him. But his mind reminded him the many differences there were between them.

But the way their skins reacted while being in contact? It was natural. And so was the way he behaved around others; always having time and respect for every single one of them. Leonellus didn't think he met a good man until he saw the Prince for the very first time.

Maybe this third time would bring them some luck. Ahkmenrah caressed his red hair, enough to make the slave tilt his head back and look at him. His eyes were big and green and he loved to look at them. Now they were tired and a little sad. Would he manage to make him a little happier? He brushed the tip of his nose against his.

Leonellus closed his eyes and decided that he was going to let him kiss him and think about the consequences later. But that was before he heard the rushed steps getting closer. “Someone is coming.”

“Mhmm...?” Ahkmenrah hummed, tilting his head to the side and only stopping when the doors slammed open.

“Your Majesty.” Kawab was out of breath, holding onto one of the doors. “This is important.”

The Prince frowned and only leaned back when Leonellus rested a hand on his chest and slowly pushed him away: “What happened this time?”

He decided to not comment on their closeness or how the Roman began his seduction tricks to get to manipulate the Prince —and therefore Egypt— in the most intimate way. “Your mother had an accident.”

“What?” Ahkmenrah gasped. “What happened? Is she okay?” he quickly got out of bed and began to try to find his cape and clothes.

The Vizier took a deep breath and continued: “She fell down the stairs of the throne room, Your Majesty.” he licked his lips and added: “She's dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 The Medjay were an elite paramilitary police force, serving as desert scouts and protectors of areas of Pharaonic interest. The Egyptian term mḏꜣ from which the name "Medjay" was derived originally referred to a region in northern Sudan and southern Egypt inhabited by an ancient nomadic tribe of Nubians who were employed by the Egyptians as mercenaries. (Note that in a historical context, "Nubians" refers to African peoples to the south of Egypt). Source: Wikipedia.
> 
> 2 Traditionally, gladiators were selected slaves or conquered people. Typically chosen for their strong physiques, they would be hand selected and trained into gladiators. However, as the gladiator games gained steam, many gladiators were free working class men who willingly signed up. Lured by the fame, crowds and potential money and prizes to be won, there were even gladiator schools that accepted volunteers. Gladiators were major celebrities of their day. Triumphant gladiators would appear on paintings, walls and sculptures. Source: History.co.uk
> 
> 3 In Ancient Rome, wealthy women would buy vials of sweat and dirt scraped from the skin of famous gladiators and use it as a face cream. The vials were for sale outside the games. The sweat was scraped from their bodies using a tool called a strigil. It was belived to be an aphrodisiac. Source: Ripleys.com
> 
> 4 The "Table of Nations" is a standard painting that appears in a number of tombs, and they were usually provided for the guidance of the soul of the deceased. Among other things, it described the "four races of men" as follows, translation by E.A. Wallis Budge: "The first are RETH, the second are AAMU, the third are NEHESU, and the fourth are THEMEHU. The RETH are Egyptians, the AAMU are dwellers in the deserts to the east and north-east of Egypt, the NEHESU are the black races, and the THEMEHU are the fair-skinned Libyans." Source: Wikipedia
> 
> 5 Discover the legends and myths and religious beliefs surrounding Mau, believed to be a personification of the Sun god Ra, in the form of a cat. Mau is strongly associated with the ancient Egyptian mythology regarding the 'great cat' of Ra 'who dwells in Heliopolis' and killed the monstrous serpent deity Apep the Egyptian god of evil. Source: LandOfPyramids.org
> 
> 6 Before the age of manhood, Roman boys wore a bulla, a neckchain and round pouch containing protective amulets, and the bulla of an upper-class boy would be made of gold. Other materials included leather and cloth. A freeborn Roman boy wore a bulla until he came of age as a Roman citizen. A lunula was a crescent moon shaped pendant worn by girls in ancient Rome. Girls ideally wore them as an apotropaic amulet, the equivalent of the boy's bulla. In the popular belief the Romans wore amulets usually as a talisman, to protect themselves against evil forces, demons and sorcery, but especially against the evil eye. Source: Wikipedia
> 
> 7 Prostitutes in Ancient Egypt were respected and even considered sacred as the first institutions where prostitution flourished were the temples of the Gods. The god Amun indulged in sexual activity with many women under a religious guise. Families often gave their most beautiful daughters to the priests of his temple. As soon as they grew too old for the tastes of the priests they were allowed to leave. Many practised prostitution until they were married. Source: Wikipedia


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prince was currently trying to find comfort in another Goddess. He hoped that Isis was nothing like Juno because if not, she would trick him and put him through as many labours as possible, just to diminish his faith and his hope. The statue was large and majestic, as anything else in the palace. Isis extended her large and beautiful wings, protecting the Prince and shielding him from overly curious eyes. Ahkmenrah was sitting on her lap, holding onto her left thigh and resting his cheek over her knee, with his eyes puffy and with the very evident devastation that lingered on his features after knowing that his mother would only return to him when his life would be over. As soon as he heard the ruckus Idu and Rubra created, he raised his head a little bit. Leonellus smiled sheepishly after he managed to get the monkey off the ground, away from Rubra. Idu, careless about the Prince's suffering, began to climb up the statue and sat down over the small throne that crowned the Goddess.  
> The slave approached him as he saw that the Prince shifted, wanting his company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heck, we are talking to the Gods!!

Ahkmenrah began to shake his head, unable to accept the truth.

His mother couldn't be dead. Someone couldn't leave so easily, so quickly. Without letting him get used to the idea. _Accept it_.

“No...” he whispered.

“I'm so sorry, Your Majesty.” Kawab looked compassionate and clearly sad about it. He respected her. Leonellus couldn't help but think that Shepseheret was a woman that could easily earn the admiration of the people around her. He still remembered her noble bearing and her graceful smile. “The embalmers will take the body in four days[1].” the Vizier cupped the face of the Prince and patted his cheek affectionatelly, trying to be comforting. “ _Courage_.”

Ahkmenrah swallowed thickly, seeing blurry with the tears that wanted to stream down his cheeks. “I...” This couldn't be happening. Not at this very moment when things seemed to be about to take a turn and offer him something he desired for so long. “I have to see her, I can't...” he babbled. “I need to say _goodbye_.” Only the Gods know when he will be able to join her in Aaru. In plenty of years, if they are merciful. “I need to see her Kawab.” he repeated, more urgently.

“Of course.” he nodded. “I'll wait outside while you get dressed.” Finally, he pointed at Leonellus and then back at the Prince before he stepped out.

The slave understood the order he was given.

Leonellus undressed Ahkmenrah, with the skill of a body slave. He lived among them back in the Domus and learned by only looking at them. In the end, the task was not very complicated. The only difference was that he constantly checked the Prince's face, who was still unable to believe what was happening, with moist eyes but still not crying. The Roman decided to dress up him quickly, brushing the fabric so he would look sober and strong, even if his face looked far more childish than ever. When he cupped his face, Ahkmenrah knitted his eyebrows together, looking at him, trying to find a direction in his face: how he was meant to act.

“Death is only the beginning, Your Majesty.” he decided to use his own words. “Your parents told you to not be afraid because it's not scary. Nor it has to be sad.” he caressed his cheek with his thumb. “You remember you told me that, don't you? Your mother wouldn't want you to be sad.” he captured a tear as soon as it rolled down. “Don't cry. Calm down. It's okay. Close your eyes.” The Prince obeyed. “And now breathe. Take your time.” he moved his hands to his arms, rubbing them.

The Prince followed his advice, but he still looked frail. Like he could break down at any moment. Leonellus pressed his lips and offered a very small smile when he opened his grey and miserable eyes. “Go. You'll be fine.” He assumed that his father, Pharaoh, would be there. And in moments like that, they would need each other's tenderness.

“You are not coming with me?” Ahkmenrah asked, practically desperate.

“I don't think it's proper.” Leonellus denied. “But I'll be right here when you come back.” he squeezed his arms one last time before he stepped back.

Ahkmenrah quickly stepped forward and took his face with both hands: “No. Please, you have to come with me. _I beg you_. Please. I need you.”

“You must not beg to me.” Leonellus rushed to correct him.

“Well, I am!” he gasped. “Please, please, _please_.”

The slave parted his lips and sighed. He nodded. This was not the moment to deny him anything.

Ahkmenrah held his hand tightly as he walked out of the room with him. The cats were locked inside even if the meowed and scratched the golden doors, wanting to follow their owners. Kawab frowned and looked like he was about to scold him as soon as he saw the Roman boy following their Prince. Ahkmenrah shook his head: _not now_.

The older man decided to let this pass and lead the two boys towards a part of the palace that Leonellus didn't get to see until now. He could barely look around, far too focused on the Prince and making sure that he wouldn't burst into tears before seeing his mother. He continued to caress the back of his hand with his thumb until the doors of a big yet empty room were opened for them. In the middle, a body rested over pale marble and holding the hand of the lifeless body there was the greatest man of this kingdom.

He looked tremendously human while mourning the death of a wife.

“Father...” Ahkmenrah breathed.

Leonellus released his hand so the Prince could carry on without him. He stood by Kawab's side and looked at them as the boy embraced his father. The Pharaoh held him back and placed a hand over the back of his head as he began to cry on his shoulder. The slave brushed his lips with his fingers, a little nervous and uneasy, wanting to comfort him himself. _Poor thing_.

The Vizier raised his chin and cleared his throat. “You shall not mention this to anyone.”

Leonellus shook his head. _No, never_.

“If Pharaoh agrees to interact with you,” A complicated moment for a first meeting. “you shall not speak or look at him. You'll kneel on the floor and wait until he decides to talk to you. That is _if_ he want to. You'll stay here, in silence, until then.”

Leonellus nodded this time. He decided to hold his hands behind his back, to stop playing with them. After Pharaoh kissed his son's forehead, he could hear the Prince whimpering: “This can't be happening. Not to her.”

“It's alright, my son.” Merenkahre rubbed his back. “We shall be together again one day.” The man was devastated. He woke up the sight of his wife and now, a few hours later, a simple accident took her away from him. But it was in him, as a father, to comfort his son during this. “This is not going to be the end for her. She will wait for us.”

“But I don't want to be without her.” he whimpered. Even if Ahkmenrah truly thought that death was something hopeful, a second chance, he was still a boy who wanted his mother _now_. Who needed her for advice and love. A son who completely adored his mother and that would have wanted to live many years with her. “It's not fair. Why did the Gods take her so soon?” She didn't even manage to see him _rule_.

“They couldn't wait anymore. She belongs in Aaru.” Merenkahre tried once again. There was truly no other comfort than to think about that moment when they would meet in the Field of Reeds. Ahkmenrah furrowed his eyebrows and whimpered against his shoulder. Pharaoh caressed the back of his neck, squeezing it. “Come on.”

The Prince stepped back and looked down at his mother's corpse. He squeezed his eyes shut and sobbed some more. He covered his face with his hands as his father rubbed and squeezed his shoulders.

The woman missed a step and cracked her head. And just like that, she _died_. The healers tried to do as much as they could to conceal the wound and keep it from bleeding and making the scene far more gruesome than necessary.

“I love you so much.” Ahkmenrah rested his hand over his mother's. It was cold and didn't return the tender squeeze as she always did. “And I'll miss you every day until we reunite.” The Prince kissed Shepseheret's forehead and rested his head against her shoulder. His whole body trembled as he got no response from her. His father continued to caress his back and squeeze his shoulder, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

The Gods must love his wife even more than he assumed they did. Enough to consider they had to take her away from them. “Ahkmenrah.” he called his name as the boy slipped to the ground and held his mother's hand with both of his. He cried against her knuckles, begging her to come back. “Stand up, my son, the floor is no place for a Prince.” he held his arm and tried to raise him up. But Ahkmenrah shook his head as he kept crying more and more tears of pain.

The Pharaoh turned and looked at Kawab. It was when the Vizier made a move with his head to the slave. “Go comfort His Majesty.”

Leonellus didn't hesitate: he rushed towards Ahkmenrah and joined him on the floor. A slave can never be any higher than those who have control over their own lives. So the redhead gently pried the hands of the Prince off the lifeless body and wrapped his arms around him. He made sure that Ahkmenrah's chin would rest over his shoulder as he cuddled and comforted him. The Roman knew how to do that.

Ahkmenrah held him tightly and _wailed_. The Prince was just a sweet kind boy. He didn't deserve any of this. “Shh...” he rubbed his back as he fisted his clothes, making the fabric that covered his hair fall to the floor.

Leonellus didn't dare to raise his eyes when he heard Pharaoh taking a step forward. In fact, he closed them, not knowing what to expect but not wanting to see it coming either way.

The Pharaoh heard about the Roman slave from plenty of mouths: both priests' that were sent away, Kawab's, his son's and at some point, his wife's. And she said that she believed that he would offer their heir a good company and the attention that any young man needed. Surely that was the opinion he valued the most and that was why he allowed Ahkmenrah to turn him into his Fan-Bearer. He didn't touch Leonellus. He touched his son, comforting but demanding his attention.

Ahkmenrah's cheeks were all blushed and soaked with tears. He held onto the slave with dear life as he looked up at his father. He held him like he was the only one that could bring him some comfort after such terrible news. “I need him. He's _mine_. He _belongs_ to me and I need him.”

“I'm not going to take him away from you.” Merenkahre promised. “Go to your room. Calm down and come back when you feel better.” To put him through the unnecessary pain of watching his mother's corpse when he clearly couldn't stand the sight wouldn't do him any good. He had four days until he would have the chance to say goodbye. He didn't have to force the situation at the moment. “Both of you are allowed to go.” he gave them permission to leave, necessary around Pharaoh.

Leonellus helped Ahkmenrah to stand up. The boy wouldn't stop looking at his dead mother and it was the slave who wrapped his arm around him and slowly made him walk away. Kawab patted the back of his head as they walked past him to return to his bedroom.

*** * ***

By the time they made it back to the Prince's chambers, Ahkmenrah was absolutely _broken_. He could no longer stand on his two feet. Leonellus was quick enough to catch him and slowly guide him towards the bed. The young boy kept sobbing and shaking his head, refusing to accept reality. “I must be dreaming. Please, tell me this is nothing but a dream.” he practically pleaded.

The slave encouraged him to lay down in silence. Ahkmenrah covered his face with his hands and started to cry, loud and wet. That was the misery of a helpless boy. Leonellus felt a great amount of compassion and as soon as he removed his sandals, he sat down by his side. With his palms shielding his face, he was only make it far more complicated for himself to breathe. “None of this, come on.” he whispered, prying his hands away from his face. The Prince coughed and whimpered sharply. “Try to calm down.” he caressed his cheek, tenderly. “Breathe.” He tried to remember how Kyrillos used to soothe him when he got unbearably sad. And then how he comforted Numerius and Aulus when they got scared at night or were teased by their brothers or other kids. “Close your eyes and breathe. Here, hold my hands, I'm not going anywhere.” he offered as he rested both hands over his chest.

The Prince didn't doubt. He squeezed them tightly, almost hurting him. And even if he did, at some point, Leonellus forgave him. He had to when he looked up at him with such miserable eyes. He already missed his foolish happiness and his childish jealousy. “I want my mother back, Leonellus.”

“You'll have her.” the slave assured. Ahkmenrah's heart was kind and would pass _any_ judgment. “And when you meet her again, you'll get to tell her how beautiful your life has been. How your people loved you until you until the very end. How you made this land as great as it can be.” he squeezed his hands and brushed his thumbs over his knuckles.

That brought him no comfort. He wanted his mother now. He didn't want to live a whole life without her. Ahkmenrah closed his eyes and took another sharp breath. The tears keep falling. “Now I know suffering.”

He regretted ever saying that to him. Leonellus would want to go back in time and speak kinder words to him. That were, after all, the very first conversation they had. And the Prince was still far from angry when he snapped at him. The Roman sighed and shifted forward, laying down with him. The young heir looked at him with his moist eyes, confused as he could be. He even whined lowly when Leonellus released his hands from his grasp. When he rested over his side, he leaned his forehead against his and drapped an arm over his chest, he whispered: “Sweet boy, you don't deserve it.”

The youngest furrowed his eyebrows and held his forearm before he turned towards him and held him tightly against him. Leonellus allowed him to turn him into some sort of doll that could offer him the peace that he needed. He caressed his messy hair and kept whispering soft words close to his ear until he fell asleep against his chest.

Funny enough, Ahkmenrah didn't want Leonellus to think he was a little kid that wanted to be looked after but in that very moment that kind of pure and wholesome gentleness was exactly what he needed. And Leonellus felt good about it. Felt _honored_ that the Prince allowed him to see him in that situation. That he trusted him enough to become the one he obtained strength from. Ahkmenrah was very naïve and the slave was absolutely sure that he trusted more people than he should. Nevertheless, that didn't make him feel any less flattered. Or any less mesmerized.

He looked at him and he _felt_. Leonellus wished to caress his face as he slept, run his hands through his hair, press a kiss against his forehead and tell him that he would be there. He didn't know why his need for love woke up in this stranger land. It would bring him plenty of trouble, but... The blame was not only on him, was it? Ahkmenrah looked at him in a way he has never been looked at. Like he was something... Like he was _someone_. Not even Galeatus ever looked at him like that. But that was because the centurion only desired him.

There was something else in the Prince's eyes. Something Leonellus craved but was terrified of. He licked his lips and rested his cheek over the crown of his head. He was playing a dangerous game. His heart was not his own to decide if he wanted to give it to the Prince. He would only be able to offer him _ashes_.

While thinking how stupid he was becoming —he would have _never_ allowed himself to fall in love back in Rome—, someone knocked at the door. Ahkmenrah didn't even sigh or open his eyes at any moment. Leonellus was not in the position to dictate what happened inside the Prince's chambers, so he remained silent.

Another knock and then silence.

The door was finally opened without permission and Leonellus only expected to either see the Vizier or Pharaoh. Kawab was the one that stepped inside of the chambers. The first thing he noticed was how the Prince was curled around the slave, holding him possessively while being asleep. He has been young, before. He knew that such devotion was supposed to become attraction. And Horus help them if their young heir finds pleasure in the Roman slave. Those were hungry to conquer more land. If their Prince becomes fond of the Roman culture through the redhead, the Eagle might try to invade them and that he could _not_ tolerate. He'd rather die than seeing strangers ruling his land. This was their country and it's his duty to protect it and those who lived in it, Ahkmenrah included.

And because he was being looked at in such way, Leonellus slowly removed his hands from the Prince's body, remembering he was told to not touch him. He even hid his bare and dirty feet under the blanket, ashamed, when Kawab looked at them. Still, even if he shifted lightly, he couldn't release himself from the younger boy without waking him up. The red slave looked at Kawab in silence.

“Don't disturb him.” he warned before Leonellus nodded. “I have another command for you.” His green eyes were still on him and therefore, listening. “I've known the Prince since he was born. And I know the love he had for his mother couldn't be compared to anything.” It was pure devotion. “If he doesn't say goodbye to her properly, he'll regret it. He knows he has four days and I want you to convince him to do so.” When the slave looked like he wanted to talk, he denied. “Your duty, not an option. Once he does and his mother is buried, you shall remember your position and not confuse the Prince. Step aside and let him focus on himself. Understood?” After yet another silence from the slave, he obtained a nod. “Good.” he stepped back and turned to open the door again. The visit was very short. No need to talk much more to a slave. “If things get out of hand, send him my way.”

He wouldn't be able to comfort the Prince better than he did, Leonellus couldn't help but think, bitter as he could be. He merely nodded and he was left alone again in that room.

Being left alone with his thoughts was the very worst thing that could happen to him, at the moment. The weight of Ahkmenrah's body on top of him did not help. He didn't dare to touch him anymore. Nor to whisper to him while he slept. Things would have been much different and much better for him if he was a free man. His devotion would be the very same. He wouldn't try to match the Prince's greatness or challenge him in a stupid game of might and strength. He'd submit to him willingly, but... As he was, he couldn't expect anything from this situation.

Slaves are tools for pleasure, as much. And to be treated like that by him would probably break his heart. He'd enjoy it at first, since he would be stupid enough to misunderstand excitation with love. But then nothing would last. He would lose his place and probably his life. The only one who protected him and kept Leonellus from death was the fact that Ahkmenrah decided to befriend him without barely knowing him.

Hours later, he felt that Ahkmenrah woke up because he began to nose his neck and caress his arms. He barely moved and since the Prince didn't obtain the tenderness he gave him before falling asleep, he became far more demanding. He brushed his lips against Leonellus' jaw and squeezed his shoulder before he cupped his face with both of his hands. His grey eyes were trying to find his until Leonellus found the courage to look back at him. Perhaps the Prince didn't find what he was trying to find in them because he whispered: “Don't be different now.”

“I'm not.” he replied. He was a slave before he fell asleep. He was a slave now, too. He acted stupidly: too much kindness could be _misunderstood_.

“No.” Ahkmenrah shook his head. “No, no. Hold me again.” he said as he got on top of him, holding Leonellus' arms and putting them around his body before he embraced him. “I need you. Please, don't change now.” he whispered. Ahkmenrah brushed the tip of his nose against Leonellus' cheek and forced him to bear all of his weight over his stomach and his chest.

 _To be needed_. That made him feel _important_. Made him feel like he had a place in the world. Kawab said so himself, once they bury his mother, he will have to go back to his previous role, whichever it was. The Prince's entertainment, he assumed. Leonellus held onto that. It won't hurt now, but it will hurt later. A very bad deal, but the only one he could get out of this. He rubbed the Prince's back and nodded. “I'm not. I'm right here.” he mumbled.

Ahkmranh's smile felt sad against his cheek.

*** * ***

The patience he developed as a tutor would prove to be useful the following days.

Leonellus had to convince and encourage the Prince to eat. He refused to do anything other than sobbing on his lap and seeking the comfort his slim thighs offered. He held onto the slave's narrow waist and there he cried until Leonellus' tunic became all wet. And because he knew that he would end up getting sick, he had to become a little more strict than he usually was.

Ahkmenrah even looked lost when the Roman boy pushed him away, not letting him use him any longer as his main source of comfort. “You either eat something or I'll be forced to _speak_.” The Prince already heard him speaking in a rather harsh way. And even if he found it beyond endearing, in that state that he was, those would be far more complicated to deal with. “So, please, Your Majesty, you must eat. Act like a grown up.”

He only got a very sad sniff and pout as an answer. Leonellus raised his eyebrows before the Prince nodded sheepishly.

His cheek rested over the slave's shoulder as soon as he joined him on the bed once again, with a bowl full of dates. Leonellus was not awfully fond of them, they were chewy and overly sweet. But he assumed that came with very poor taste and how little he ever got to try. He opened them up dutifully with a small knife and removed the seed before he passed them to Ahkmenrah, who ate them in silence, still as close to him as he was allowed to be.

“I think you should see your mother before they take her away.” Leonellus wanted to solve that issue as soon as possible. He didn't feel in place to tell him what to do, but he was given an order and he was wiser than to disobey.

Ahkmenrah sniffed and shook his head. “I can't do it.”

“I am sure there is plenty you want to tell her.” he gave him another date. His mother died abruptly, with no time to get him used to the idea. Of course he had plenty to say to her.

“I _can't_ do it.” the Prince repeated.

The red slave sighed and turned his head to look at him. Ahkmenrah pressed his lips, looking awfully sad and close to tears once again. “You are the owner of your own acts and words, I can't force you to do anything.” And he would never forget his place. He could scold him, of course, but the Prince was not his student. “But when I was forced to leave Rome, I couldn't say goodbye to my kids.” They weren't his and yet he had the _need_ to say it. “And I would have wanted to, there was plenty I wished to tell them.” And while they were alive, Leonellus knew he would _never_ see them again.

“It hurts you to think about them now? Because of that?” Ahkmenrah played with the date.

Leonellus smiled a bit and nodded. It did. If he had left after letting them know how important they were for him and how much he loved them, it would hurt way less. But he was forced to leave like a traitor and like a careless man. All because Leonellus dared to get mad after being sold to a stranger.

Ahkmenrah didn't want to regret. He didn't want to wait until seeing his mother in Aaru to let her know how much he loved her and how important she has been to him. And how much he would think about her until his very last day. He parted his lips before he closed them, frowning slightly. Leonellus leaned more against his body and the Prince held him instinctively. It took him a few more minutes to find the strength to whisper: “Will you be there with me?”

Then, the Roman boy had to shake his head: “I shouldn't listen to the last words of love you speak to your mother.”

“Would you ever listen to the word of love I would speak to you?” Ahkmenrah asked absently, gently pushing Rubra away after she sniffed his date and tried to steal it from his hand.

Leonellus didn't even allow himself to listen to that question properly. He denied a second time, firmly: “This is not the right moment for games, Your Majesty.”

“Right...” the Prince whispered and leaned back, releasing him. “I'll do it. I just... I need a little time.” he needed to accept that he would have to do that alone, something he hardly ever did. Either others did everything for him or had supervision at any time with any sort of matter. Leonellus nodded, caressing his back.

He didn't bring the issue up because each time he looked at him early in the morning, Ahkmenrah excused himself saying he didn't feel ready yet until Leonellus woke up that fourth and last day only to see that the Prince was not in his chambers.

He quickly looked around and opened the door of the chambers only to find an empty corridor and both guards on each side. He licked his lips and stepped back. Should he go and try to find him? He told him he had to do this all by himself and yet... He worried about him. What if he was crying once again? Leonellus sat down on his cot. Niveus laid over his lap instantly. The slave caressed the back of the cat absently, forcing himself to wait for the Prince.

 _You sure worry about him, don't you?_ Venus mumbled close to his ear.

Tricky and cruel goddess. He was sure that Hathor wouldn't tease him as much.

Leonellus huffed and stood up, holding Niveus close to his chest. Both Rubra and Ater decided to follow their owner, ready to take a walk. He was about to allow Idu out of his cage, but he noticed that the clever and little monkey found his way out during the night. He still climbed to his shoulder, knowing that they were going on a little adventure.

The slave tried to distract himself and the anxious feeling gripping his throat by scratching Niveus' under his chin. The light purring and how the cat rubbed his little head against his chest soothed him. Not completely, because his eyes were still eager while trying to find the Prince, but enough to let him help control his breathing and not run around the palace. He didn't want to be alone. He was scared. They already tried to kill him twice and, _sure_ , the ones that did so were sent away and, apparently, there was nothing left to fear. But he never felt fully safe. Back home, he stopped being scared. At first, Kyrillos was with him and took the blame each time he did something wrong. The Greek often claimed that the mistakes of the students reflected the failure of the teacher. In a way, he agreed with him, but he doubted he was to blame at all when Leonellus broke something because of his clumsy hands. Then, when he grew older and Kyrillos died, he became detached. He no longer cared what happened to him. Maybe that's why after some time he allowed Galeatus to touch him however he wished.

But now... He was scared because he treasured the time spent with the Prince. Made him... _happy_ , in a way.

 _You adore him. But it's not on you, is it? You are only human. It's him who has something divine shinning right under his skin_ , Venus kept playing with him. Leonellus wished she would become foam again, with no power to talk nor torture.

He ignored her as much as he could and headed towards the room where Pharaoh and the Prince mourned the loss of their most beloved member of the family. He opened the door lightly, without making any nose, just to find it empty and silent. Nor Ahkmenrah or the remains of Shepseheret were there anymore. After keeping Ater from entering inside the room, he closed the door again and looked around. He didn't know that part of the palace very well, so he kept wandering, feeling like he would never find Ahkmenrah for he had no idea of where he was going.

 _He has bits of your heart under his tongue. He can taste your love, sweet boy. And you can remember exactly where your heart belongs_.

Leonellus held Niveus a little higher, until he could feel his fur right under his chin. That was when Idu jumped off his shoulder and started to run, quickly being chased by Rubra. Those two would never get along. “Hey, no!” he huffed before he rushed after them. Ater followed him and Niveus merely complained for not being allowed to relax in his human's arms.

He reached another part from the palace that he didn't get to see just yet. In all honesty, he only remembered his way from the Prince's chambers to the throne room and back. Perhaps he could find his way to that little room where he was thrown when he arrived to Men-Nefer for the first time. Other than that it was pure chance —or the animal's doing— that he found Ahkmenrah. As soon as the saw the Prince's his heart became all tender. _Oh, you love him. You do!_ giggled the naughty Goddess.

The Prince was currently trying to find comfort in another Goddess. He hoped that Isis was nothing like Juno because if not, she would trick him and put him through as many labours as possible, just to diminish his faith and his hope. The statue was large and majestic, as anything else in the palace. Isis extended her large and beautiful wings, protecting the Prince and shielding him from overly curious eyes. Ahkmenrah was sitting on her lap, holding onto her left thigh and resting his cheek over her knee, with his eyes puffy and with the very evident devastation that lingered on his features after knowing that his mother would only return to him when his life would be over. As soon as he heard the ruckus Idu and Rubra created, he raised his head a little bit. Leonellus smiled sheepishly after he managed to get the monkey off the ground, away from Rubra. Idu, careless about the Prince's suffering, began to climb up the statue and sat down over the small throne that crowned the Goddess.

The slave approached him as he saw that the Prince shifted, wanting his company. He left Niveus over the pedestal of the statue, that was high enough to reach Leonellus' ribs. The Prince must have strong legs to get up there. Their white cat laid on his back, meowing and demanding to get his stomach scratched. The Roman did exactly that while keeping his green eyes on Ahkmenrah.

“How do you feel, Your Majesty?” he finally dared to ask.

Ahkmenrah shifted and held his knees against his chest, pressing his back against the Goddess' stomach. “You'll have to ask me that question in the future so I can give you the answer you deserve to hear.”

“Any answer would be _fitting_. Any answer would be _proper_.” Leonellus replied.

“I don't want to talk about how bloated she looked or how I could hardly speak without breaking down to tears. Doesn't make me feel good. Doesn't make me _look_ good.” And the stress on that word was enough for the slave to notice that he probably spoke with Kawab about the importance of pretense and the strength necessary to become Pharaoh.

He didn't like that. Leonellus appreciated that Ahkmenrah was sweet and tender. He met plenty of men in the past that decided to ignore their most vulnerable emotions to show themselves proud and invincible. After picking Niveus up and moving him to the ground with his siblings, Leonellus helped himself with his hands before he climbed up the pedestal, far from graceful or skilled. His limbs were lean, that only made him fast not strong. The Prince helped him by holding the back of his elbow, perhaps a little desperate to get to touch him again. Leonellus thanked his help by holding his hands and squeezing them. He had a few moments left of this familiarity. He was warned that he would have to remember his place once the Great Royal Wife would be buried. After that... Back to silence and distance, he guessed.

Maybe that would be the finest solution for his overly affectionate heart.

“You don't have to worry about looking a certain way in front of me. I can see your greatness past the suffering.” Oh, he shouldn't say that! Venus was taking control of him, wasn't she?

Ahkmenrah's eyes lit up and whispered: “You think I'm great?” Leonellus felt stupid and cruel. But he nodded, unable to lie. “You always find a way to make me so happy.” Even if he didn't look awfully chipper. The Prince released one of his hands and caressed his cheek before he pressed a kiss against the other side of his face and pulled him forward, holding him as tight as usual. The slave didn't complain, he only held him back, lost in thought until the Prince asked: “How do you deal with the silence?” His voice caressed the slave's neck. “Of knowing that those you need are not by your side? How do you live with the emptiness?”

Leonellus was not as wise. Neither he was old enough to be experienced, but he was starting to learn things. He sighed and caressed the back of the Prince's head and answered in the best way that he could: “You convince yourself that they can still hear you. That they miss you as much as you do while they wait for you.”

The Prince leaned back to get to look at his face. Leonellus smiled slightly. “I believe you.” He had nothing else he could hold onto. “I have to tell you something.” Ahkmenrah didn't look happy about it and the slave couldn't help but feel a little alarmed. “Kawab told me you won't be able to come with us tomorrow, to her burial.” He would want him there, but Leonellus almost fainted when he took him to visit his father's tomb. He didn't want to risk his friend's health after losing his mother. “But I want you to do something for me.”

“ _Anything_.” he nodded, far too quickly and without any conditions.

“Pray for me.” Ahkmenrah moved his hands to the slave's shoulders and caressed them. “Please, pray for me so I won't break down.”

“I don't know how... Or to who I should...” Leonellus babbled. He accepted their Gods, yes. But he didn't know very well how to communicate with them.

“To your Gods, then. There isn't one you'd turn to for protection?” He insisted. “A kind one. Loving. One that can hope and look after the fortune of my house? Of my family?” His kingdom will become his family and he will have to look after them all. And he needed his father to live many years so he will be ready to rule.

Leonellus eventually nodded: “Vesta.” But he doubted she would listen to him. He was not a woman or a virgin. He didn't wish to anger her. It was her and her fire the one that kept Rome prosperous and strong. He didn't want to bring misforture over Egypt with his ignorance.

“Pray. Pray to her for me. _Please_.”

“I...”

“Leonellus, please.” he asked once again, cupping his face. “I will need it.”

Ahkmenrah kissed his face and he couldn't say _no_ to him.

*** * ***

This had to be the happiest day of his life.

Kahmunrah observed his brother and, for the very first time, he saw sadness in him. He looked miserable and like he could be about to burst into tears at any given moment. To see him drowing in sorrow brought him _satisfaction_. A selfish and morbid bliss that reminded him that he could be hit by tragedy, too. His brother was not a God, no matter what others wanted to believe. He was flesh and blood very much like he was. And therefore, he could suffer too.

And he _would_.

Only he was the heir of their father, for he was the eldest the only son of his first wife. Ahkmenrah would not rule. He would take care of that, and now that the death of a beloved one could affect him so terribly, he only had to sow the seeds of fear and uncertainty.

When Ahkmenrah held him and thanked him for being there, he ignored the burning need to push him away and spit at him. Kahmunrah patted the back of his half-brother and replied, casual and cruel: “Now, you don't want to show yourself weak in front of your people, do you, Iry-pat?”

The Prince failed the notice the mockery in his voice and smiled sadly. He shook his head and confessed: “My good Leonellus is looking after me. He is going to pray so I'll be able to go through this without showing how much my heart is suffering.”

“Leonellus?” he arched an eyebrow. “Your slave?” He wouldn't remember his true name. If he was named Deshret, then he would be called that. Easier to pronounce and remember. Just as uninteresting and red as the barren land.

Ahkmenrah nodded. “He is as kind as he can be. I will pray to Hathor so he will love me as much as I do.”

Kahmunrah snorted and shook his head: “It's not possible to love a slave.”

“There are no impossibles for the son of Pharaoh.” he allowed himself to be cocky.

And since he spoke like he was the _only_ heir, Kahmunrah felt the need to be cruel again: “And who is he praying to? Our Gods must be repulsed by his pale skin and his wicked hair. Only Set would listen to him and he will give you despair.” _Oh, he hoped!_

Ahkmenrah denied as Kawab approached them to make sure they were ready to leave. “He is praying to his Gods. To _Vesta_.”

And that, how he pronounced the name of the foreing Goddess, made the Vizier's suspicion have some connection with reality. The Roman slave was seducing their Prince to make him fond of his religion. No Pharaoh was strong enough to survive woshipping the wrong Gods[2].

“ _Enough_.” Kawab interrupted them. “Chin up. No more talking.”

Ahkmenrah parted his lips but nodded and decided to _obey_.

Leonellus, meanwhile, kept nibbling his nails while looking at their three cats. He felt _conflicted_. The slave knew that he promised the Prince that he would pray for him, since there were no conditions about the things he would do for him. On the other hand, he was scared of the consequences that would come with praying to Vesta as a man who has been touched by a few and while being in a land far from Rome. Sekhmet could become jealous and devour him. Or maybe Vesta would set him on fire.

“What can I do?” he asked. Rubra stretched her back, but other than that, he got no response from them. “You'd miss me if they punished me?” Leonellus extended his hand towards them and Ater pocked his fingers with his paw. “You think he would miss me...?” If he disappeared, would the Prince try to find him? Would he think about him at all? _He hoped_. “He is changing me, I can tell. My heart has been calm for far too long. I don't know how to handle this anymore. I am not as rational as I used to be.”

Kyrillos told him all about masters and slaves and how he should never trust them fully. Be silent and dutiful, but never scared or loving. Leonellus was far from being scared of the Prince, but... Maybe there was something growing in his chest. Something he couldn't control as much as he would want to. When the Prince looked at him, Leonellus felt like he had a place back in life again. Once as Kyrillos' apprentice, then as Numerius and Aulus' tutor and now... As his friend. As his Fan-Bearer. As his confidant. Whatever that he was. Any title would be more than enough.

Leonellus stood up with resignation —he sealed his fate; love was not a gentle river— and took the first oil lamp that he saw around the room. The sunlight still made it inside of the Prince's chambers, but he didn't try to enlighten his surroundings, nor he wanted clarity. He needed a _flame_. After scooting the cats away from the lamp as they grew overly curious, Leonellus turned to see that Idu was still in his cage, as he didn't find a way to escape yet. When Rubra almost knocked the oil lamp over, he picked the three of them up and put them back in their wicker basket. They wouldn't stay there for long, but he needed peace to pray.

He lit the lamp and kneeled in front of it, resting his hands over the ground. His forehead followed next as he humbly asked for her to listen to him: “Holy Queen of Sanctity, I hymn you, Vesta, keeper of our fire. Lady of the hearth, I salute you, daughter of Saturn and Ops, who alone brings firelight to the sacred altars of the gods; Vesta, reward my prayer, grant wealth obtained in honesty; then I shall always dance around your glistening throne[3].”

He didn't feel anything. The flame was burning still, looking smaller each time, looking like it could extinguish at any moment. Leonellus closed his eyes and breathed: “I beg you, Vesta. I don't pray for a selfish purpose. I have nothing I could ask for.” He would only pray to Libertas, and she never granted him his biggest wish. “Taking care of this little room is something I do with pleasure, but I need you to turn this palace into a sacred place where the one I care about will always be safe and guarded. I ask you, Vesta, to look after him. To protect him. To give him the strength he will need now that his family has lost a valuable member. _Please_.”

Leonellus felt how the tips of his fingers became warmer. The flame was growing again.

 _Be sincere_.

“I am fond of him. I'd become his family if I were a free man.” His cheeks burned with shame only to hear himself confessing such thing. He was _doomed_. “But I am not and I won't be allowed to be as close to him as I was, that's why I beg you, Vesta. Look after him, past the limits of Rome. He is worth it. The fire in his chest is noble and pure. _Please_.” Prayers demanded repetition and submission.

_What are you going to give me for his protection, little slave?_

But also a sacrifice, of course.

“Whatever that I might have, is yours. Ask and I shall give it to you.” As he did with the Prince, there were no conditions or limits.

 _Let me taste your devotion. Give me your blood. Then I will be the one to decide if he deserves my protection_.

Leonellus blinked before he raised his head from the floor. There was no fear in his actions. The flame was burning bright and warm. He stood up and found a little scalpel that was probably used to sharpen reed pens. The slave kneeled on the floor once again. The cats were on the bed, observing him but not wanting to interrupt him at any moment. Maybe Bastet and Sekhmet were looking through them. Leonellus cut the palm of his right hand. He winced briefly before he fisted his hand, allowing the warm and crimson blood to drip down and fuse and mix with the oil of the lamp.

The flame _grew_.

 _Oh, but you love him, don't you?_ The Virgin Goddess asked.

The slave resumed his previous position smearing blood over the ground. “I can't, I don't belong to myself.”

 _No, you already belong to him. That should make things easier_.

“They aren't. I'll be pushed away from him. And I want him to be happy, safe and loved. By all.”

The Goddess hummed and Leonellus almost felt her hand over the back of his head. _This is not my land, little slave_.

“Please.” he tried once again. “I'll give you blood from my chest or my neck.”

 _I don't need it, I already tasted it. Sweet as vermouth_.

Leonellus stayed in silence and squeezed his eyes shut.

After a small sigh and feeling the flame wavering for a moment, the Goddess spoke: _I'll try my best, but you shall not let this flame consume itself. I won't be able to see anymore, if you do_.

“ _Anything_.” Leonellus pleaded.

 _You are now his_ , Vesta declared. _You shall not let any other touch you or look at you. You pray to me for his home, but exchange you must understand that you are no longer allowed to ever leave his side_.

“I can't be by his side after this! I was told to stay away!”

 _You'd rather obey a man better than me?_ She sounded angry.

“No! No, no...” he denied, slowly. “I'm sorry.”

 _Accept my terms or risk the one you love, but don't ever elevate a man to my level. You'll regret it_.

The slave nodded, regretful. “Thank you, Vesta.”

And just like that, without any other word to soften her threat, her presence disappeared but the flame stayed.

Leonellus breathed and knew that as soon as Kawab saw that he didn't keep his promise, he would win another enemy. And this one wouldn't be as clumsy or as lazy as the priests that were sent away. Rubra jumped off the bed and walked towards him. Her eyes seemed to be darker than ever before she licked the blood on the ground. Sekhmet must have taken control of her.

“Are you mad at me? Have I done well?” he asked, offering her his hand.

She nosed his open wound before she climbed on his lap, purring and closing her eyes.

Maybe she was curious about how his love tasted.

Maybe it was as powerful as the pomegranate juice, for both of them could soothe her just the same.

*** * ***

There was no lararium[4] in the Prince's chambers, so he decided to leave the now sacred lamp somewhere where the Goddess could see the Prince at any moment. Leonellus noticed that the tablet over the bed reflected the dim light of the flame. Other than that, he tried not to think much about it. The Prince commented that while his father told him that it held plenty of secrets, he always saw it as decoration. He should ask someone to help him read properly in their language. He appreciated knowledge.

Then, he sat down on his cot and laid on his back, letting the cats walk over him. Even Idu decided to join the fun of using their human as part of the furniture of the room. He kept his eyes on the flame and considered that this had to be one of the only times he ever recalled a deity listening to anything he said. Kyrillos told him that the Gods sometimes felt the need to communicate with them _only_ when the matter was important enough. _There are others, of course, who are favoured by the Gods_ , Kyrillos said once, _a very lucky few_. He was _hardly_ one of them.

Leonellus observed how Idu played with the amulet the Prince gave him and smiled when the little monkey tried to bite it, confusing the crimson jewel with a berry. He pried the scarab from his mouth and turned his head when he heard the door slamming open. His green eyes moved back to the flame: _still burning_.

“Leonellus.” Ahkmenrah calling his name was enough to make him stand up. Idu held onto his tunic and he had to hold him like a baby. “Here you are!” he gasped, closing the door behind him. “You prayed for me, didn't you? I didn't cry. Not a bit. Kawab said that I acted like a true king. He looked proud of me. So did my father, even if... A little distracted.” Pharaoh was becoming quiet and distant. The death of his wife was becoming harder to accept with time. Like a bone that doesn't heal well and keeps hurting each time more. “But I did well because I know I will see her again. With time.” Ahkmenrah cupped his face and smiled. “And because you looked after me and because I didn't want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me. Even less because you feel sad, Your Majesty.” Leonellus denied.

Ahkmenrah wanted to touch that sweet tongue that could speak such gentle words. When he was about to keep talking and perhaps start flattering him, he noticed the bandage that covered his right hand. “What happened?” The Prince was alarmed, holding his arm. Idu moved from Leonellus' arms to Ahkmenrah's shoulder. “Did anyone hurt you?” he demanded to know, turning his hand and brushing the fabric aside to see the wound. “I'll have them _skinned_.”

It was surprising how such kind man could easily turn to such morbid thoughts. “No.” Leonellus shook his head. The Prince frowned, assuming that he was lying to protect his abuser. “I promise. I did this to myself.” he placed his other hand over the Prince's.

“Why would you do that?”

“I was praying.” Leonellus reminded him. “Vesta wanted something exchange.”

“Exchange for what?” Ahkmenrah asked, covering the wound once again, very careful and tender.

Leonellus smiled and the Prince had to mirror the action, mesmerized by that simple thing. The slave walked towards the small oil lamp and gestured towards it: “ _This_.”

“Oh!” he blinked, clearly not understanding why it was so special. “But we had this before, didn't we?”

“Not like this.” the slave explained.”It's the sacred fire of Vesta.”

“I... have no idea what that means.”

“There's a fire, in Rome. The eternal flame. As long as it keeps burning, Rome will never fall. The Vestal Virgins are the ones responsible for it.” Ahkmenrah did not comment on the fact that he knew that Leonellus did not fit the description. He refused to shame him, but that detail still irked him. He _loathed_ Galeatus. “It's the fire of protection. We shall not let this fire consume itself. _Ever_.”

Ahkmenrah needed a couple of seconds to react: “You prayed for my protection. You gave your blood for me.”

Leonellus blinked but nodded. “You asked me to.” Was that too much? Perhaps a bit offensive? “I don't think you are a child.” He rushed to add, remembering the argument they had a few nights ago. “Or that you are clueless. It's just...” he chewed his lip. _I want you to be safe and protected, kind and gentle as you are, so nothing will ever corrupt your spirit_.

Ahkmenrah pulled him tight in his arms and pressed kisses over his temple and cheek. “Oh, we will keep that fire burning, my friend. We'll keep it until the very end.”

Leonellus felt a little overwhelmed by the affection he was given. He tried to not think about it or grow fond of him. Idu tugging onto his hair made it a little easier to deal but he could still hear Vesta for the very last time: _Remember your promise, don't leave his side_.

*** * ***

The following days were... _strange_.

The Vizier looked at Leonellus like he broke his promise. Perhaps he did, but he couldn't forget about his vow. Not if that could guarantee the safety and the protection of the Prince. Both of them wanted the very same: for Ahkmenrah to live a long and happy life. And if that angered the Vizier then... Well. He guessed he could deal with his disapproving looks and the conviction that he was an _enemy_.

“Your father won't be able to do as much as he used to.” Kawab explained.

Ahkmenrah looked at him. “He is still _distracted_?”

A distraction that was, in fact, an unbearable sense of misery that was eating him alive.

“More each time.” he nodded and held his hands behind his back. “This will be a good chance for you to get used to your duties as Pharaoh.”

“But he is not going to die any time soon, right?” the Prince asked, anxiously. “I need him to rule many years more. I'm not ready yet.”

“His health is not at risk.” By now. “But he needs some time to soothe his mind. And as his heir, you _must_ intervene.”

Ahkmenrah ran a hand through his hair, perhaps a little overwhelmed by that sudden change. He turned and looked at Leonellus, by his right side, holding the flabellum as well as he could while one of his hands was still harmed.

“Eyes on me, Your Majesty.” Kawab scolded him before he got his attention again. Those two became _inseparable_ no matter if he warned the slave. If they don't handle this issue accordingly, it could be the end of their dynasty. Perhaps this terrible story would end with Roman troops arriving to their shore. Romans were not to be trusted. “I'll be by your side and tell you what to do.”

“But he is going to get better.” the Prince insisted. Kawab nodded, not really knowing the answer but pretending well enough to soothe the young man. “So it will be like... practicing for the future.”

“So to speak.”

Far more relieved and trusting his Vizier, Ahkmenrah stood up from his throne and took the flabellum from Leonellus' hands. “There's something I have always wanted to do.” he confessed before he raised the flabellum and hit the ground underneath them with it. “You are in the presence of Pharaoh. _Kiss my staff_.” He sure sounded dignified. Looked proud by the way he raised his chin.

Leonellus blinked, puzzled. Sure he was playing around, but he was also the heir that would act as Pharaoh a little more often from now and on. He hesitated but leaned forward. When Leonellus pursed his lips and was about to kiss the golden surface, Ahkmenrah already felt like he was out of breath. Perhaps even _blushing_. His imagination was running wild and if he keeps playing dangerous games, he would have to run back to the brothel again just to get caught a second time.

“Enough!” Kawab interrupted his little fantasy. He stopped Leonellus by holding his shoulder and snatched the flabellum from Ahkmenrah's hand before he returned it to the slave. “You will act like a grown up.” Ahkmenrah whined. “You will act like a grown up _or_ I'll ask your brother to take your place.” Now that was a threat. The Prince became silent and shook his head. “So I thought. Now, off you go.” He was no longer young enough to deal with this nonsense.

“He is no fun! He never lets me do anything entertaining.” Ahkmenrah grumbled after they walked out of the throne room, back to his chambers.

“He is supposed to be strict. He is your mentor.” Leonellus replied. It was clear that the Vizier didn't like him one bit, but he couldn't blame him. He was a stranger. That didn't mean the Roman boy was against the way he acted. Sometimes a tutor had remind his students who was in control.

“Were you strict with your kids?” the Prince wrapped his arm around his.

“Sometimes.” And because he didn't want to grow sad while thinking about Aulus and Numerius, he decided to joke a little: “But they were far more mature and well-behaved than you are at the age of eight and six.”

Ahkmenrah furrowed his nose. “That's _mean_...”

“People say Set sent me here. I _must_ be mean.” Leonellus kept teasing with a small smirk on his lips.

“Impossible!” he huffed and shook his head. “You love to torment me, but you are cursed.” There was a difference, for sure.

“Torment you!” he snorted. “What do you know about being tormented?”

“I do! Plenty! You didn't talk to me for days! Plenty of them!”

Leonellus bit his lower lip, smiling a little wider. Such a riduculous man. He released himself from Ahkmenrah and pushed the door of his chambers open only to find very little resistance. “Did you leave the door open?” he asked.

“You closed it when we left.” Ahkmenrah denied.

The slave was the first one to walk inside in the room just in case if they found some intruder. He looked around while Ahkmenrah laid down on the bed, absolutely unbothered and far from scared. The Prince was too naïve and assumed that no one would ever want to hurt him. Their three cats jumped on the mattress and joined him, to be as lazy as he was. Leonellus kept looking around only to find the room as it was, with no strangers. His eyes moved anxiously and when they found the sacred fire still burning, he relaxed.

“Maybe the servants wanted to clean something.”

“I take care of this room.” He didn't need anyone to do his job. He was not useless.

“ _Excuse me_.” Ahkmenrah grinned, finding amusing how insulting he could find the implication of those words. He smooched Niveus when he began to get on top of him.

“There's anything missing?” the red slave kept looking around as Ahkmenrah shrugged, still lazy and a little careless. Rubra decided to abandon him follow the slave around. Luckily she was not trying to fight Idu. That was when Leonellus looked at the cage and saw it was empty. “Idu!”

“Uh?”

“Idu!” he repeated before he began to look around the corners of the room and under the bed.

“He's gone?” Ahkmenrah looked at the cage, too. He got off the bed and Niveus complained. He quickly rushed towards the stairs that descended into the Nile and those were dry. “Oh, Babi, no!” he whined before he ran back towards the door of the room. “Help me find him, Leonellus!”

“I'm trying!” the slave replied, moving the scrolls from one side to the other, to make sure he wasn't hiding underneath.

“He must have ran out of the room.” the Prince walked back towards Leonellus and held his hand. He pulled him up and forced him to follow him out of his chambers.

For about two hours, they did as much as possible to try to find the little monkey. The Prince even asked some guards to help them. That was making quite a ruckus inside the palace and even drew the attention from the eldest brother.

“What is all this noise?” Kahmunrah demanded. He was holding his son's hand. Amenhotep smiled up at his uncle and the slave, waving a little bit. Leonellus couldn't help but smile and waved back at him. Just like Numerius. That kid was absolutely endearing.

“We lost Idu!” Ahkmenrah replied. “Brother, we lost my little monkey. Have you seen him anywhere?” Amenhotep gasped, like those were tragic news. Leonellus could appreciate how much he liked the monkey when he allowed him and his sister to play with him. “I know! I know, Amenhotep. I'm so sad.” he crouched to hold the little boy.

“You are truly having a terrible time, aren't you?” Kahmunrah didn't sound compassionate when he dared to remind him his mother's death. The slave frowned. The older brother saw his disapproval and ordered: “ _Down_.”

The Prince stood up while still holding Amenhotep. The boy wrapped his arms and legs around his uncle. “You don't command Leonellus, _I_ do.”

“Then teach him better manners.” he waved his hand, dismissively.

Ahkmenrah loved his brother even if he had little to admire or be fond of, but in moments like that, he almost despised him. He always made fun of everything that he had while Ahkmenrah always praised his children. “Have you seen Idu or not, Kahmunrah?”

“I have _not_ , Ahkmenrah.”

“Then we have little to speak about, at the moment.” The Prince returned him his son after kissing his forehead and grabbed Leonellus' hand again.

As they walked away, Kahmunrah mocked him one last time. “He was a present, wasn't he? I don't think Babi will bless you with his might. Not you are _ever_ going to need it.” Ahkmenrah blushed with shame as Leonellus looked at him, beyond curious. Nephi didn't tell him about Babi.

“That was not nice...” Amenhoted muttered, looking up at his father and playing with the chest piece of his necklace. _A nervous little thing that he was_.

Hours before this very moment, Kahmunrah found that disgusting little monkey messing around in his chambers. He grabbed him by the neck and threw him into the Nile. Seeing him drown brought him _almost_ as much satisfaction as pushing Shepseheret down the stairs and observe while she convulsed and died after she cracked her head open. Kahmunrah rubbed his son's back and kissed his cheek, like a loving father. Then, he said: “ _Nice_ men make weak Pharaohs.”

*** * ***

They had to stop looking for Idu when the sky became dark.

“Come on, I'm sure he is okay.” Leonellus rubbed Ahkmenrah's arm. The Prince pouted and let the cats lean against him. “Maybe he...” he licked his lips. “Maybe he will be back.”

“What if a crocodile ate him? What if he fell into the river and drowned? He was such a good monkey, Leonellus. He was practically a friend to me.” he sniffed. “I am cursed. I must be. I keep suffering. I don't want to lose anyone around me ever again. It makes me sad.”

Well, that was _loss_. It was supposed to make you sad.

Sadly, Leonellus agreed with him. He was convinced that Idu was already dead. If he fell into the river, then there was a very small chance that could have survived the experience. “Do you want to rest your head on my lap?” Maybe that will comfort him.

“Will you play with my hair...?”

“Of course.” Leonellus nodded as he shifted. He sat down on his ankles as Ahkmenrah crawled towards him. The tip of his nose almost touched the sunken stomach of the slave. The Prince commented that he was still _too skinny_ , but he said nothing about it. He ran his fingers through the dark and messy locks. He brushed them aside and made sure that his scalp was clean as it was that morning. From the unspoken duties that he had, this was his favourite. He got to touch him and be tender to him and his stupid heart enjoyed it greatly. Vesta's flame grew warmer and made the tablet shine. There was a delicate and faint glow where his fingers disappeared under the Prince's hair. Ahkmenrah wrapped his arm around his waist and buried his face on the crimson fabric of his tunic. _Sweet boy. Loving boy_. He wished Kyrillos was still alive so he would tell him if what he was doing was right or his biggest mistake. He would encourage him to learn as much as possible from this, so... “Who is Babi, Your Majesty?” Ahkmenrah looked up at him and blushed with shame as he did when they walked away from Kahmunrah. “I'm sure he blessed you with his might.” Leonellus cupped his cheek. If that was what worried him...

“Oh, but we don't know that...” the Prince looked away and bit his lower lip. He played with the sash around his waist.

“The Gods speak through you.” the slave repeated. “That's what you always say.”

“Yes, but...” he cleared his throat. “Babi is the Bull of Baboons. Their _Chief_.” Leonellus failed to be impressed that yet another of their Gods took the shape of an animal. Made perfect sense to him, at this point. “He lives in the Underworld and eats _guts_.” That was when the Roman frowned. “But he is also...” he cleared his throat and turned his head, to hide it again against his stomach. “He's the God of _Virility_.”

“ _Oh_.”

“Yes, but... Baboons are very hard to tame. So I was given Idu.” That made sense. As loved as the Prince was, he doubted a baboon would have cared much about his grace. “So I would... _recover_.”

“From what?”

Ahkmenrah groaned. He put his hands on each side of Leonellus' lap and raised his upper body, in a sudden wave of courage. He lost it far too soon. He pressed his lips and looked down before he huffed: “ _Circumcision_ [5].”

Leonellus frowned, still confused. “But Idu didn't look that old.” How many years could those monkeys live?

“It was done to me when I became a _man_. Not that long ago.” he explained. Ahkmenrah scratched his nose and focused his grey eyes on him, briefly. He was clearly ashamed. “So I would recover, he was given to me. So everything would work... _properly_.”

“That must have hurt a lot.” he only heard about some babies having to go through that, but not grown men like Ahkmenrah. He was not so sure he would be able to endure it.

“It did. They had to hold me down. I am not proud of that moment.” the Prince recognized.

“Right.” Then there was an uncomfortable silence. The Prince rested his forehead over Leonellus' shoulder. “And all well? Everything works?”

Ahkmenrah looked absolutely mortified by that question. “I haven't had anyone!” And Leonellus knew by the way he spoke to him back in the brothel.

“I know.” the slave nodded. He rubbed his arms, to soothe him. “That's not what I meant.” The younger boy frowned and looked at him, not following. “By _yourself_?”

“ _Uh_...” Should he answer that? Would it make him look vigorous or pitiful? To pleasure himself could imply his unstopabble desire or the fact that he was unable to find a partner? He widened his eyes, not knowing what to say.

Leonellus could tell that he was panicking him, so instead of _tormenting_ him, he decided to help him. “Does it hurt anymore?”

“No! Not one bit, no!” No, but he hasn't been doing it for quite a while. He couldn't do it with Leonellus in his room. Little he knew about the fact that back in Rome, no one stopped bedroom matters because a slave was nearby. The very same happened in his realm, but Ahkmenrah was ashamed to even think about such thing happening. What if his friend felt repulsed by him? He would _die_.

“Then it's all good.” he beamed, squeezing his arms. Ahkmenrah still had trouble to look at him, so he cupped his face. “Nothing to be ashamed of. Come on.” he patted his lap with a hand. The Prince smiled a little bit and resumed his previous position.

The Roman boy always had something sweet to say. He had a way to calm him down and he was sure that he loved his darling friend. How could he tell him? Ahkmenrah wanted to bring up their almost kiss before he was told about his mother's death. At first he forgot about it, but then he feared that it might be disrespectful to speak about romance after death. Now... He wanted to, but he didn't know if he could handle rejection after all those days of pain and sadness. And even less know when Idu was gone and maybe he took all of his _might_ with him.

Tomorrow he will visit Hathor. She will tell him what to do and most importantly, _how_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 If the wife of a high-status male died, her body was not embalmed until three or four days have passed, because this prevented abuse of the corpse. Source: Wikipedia
> 
> 2 Akhenaton, Tutankhamun's father, devoted himself to the worship of the Aton, erasing all images of Amon and all writings of his name and sometimes even writings containing the word gods. But the new religion was rejected by the Egyptian elite after Akhenaton’s death, and the general populace had probably never adopted it in the first place. After Akhenaton’s death, the old gods were reestablished. Source: Britannica.com
> 
> 3 Source: Aristonoos’ Hymn to Hestia, edited. from Greek Hymns: Volume I by William D. Furley and Jan Maarten Bremer
> 
> 4 The lararium was a small shrine there was inside of the domus, where offerings and prayers were made to the gods or guardian spirits of the home, the Lares.
> 
> 5 In ancient Egypt circumcision was considered to be a mark of passage from childhood to adulthood. The alteration of the body and ritual of circumcision were supposed to give access to ancient mysteries reserved solely for the initiated. Circumcisions were performed by priests in a public ceremony, using a stone blade. It is thought to have been more popular among the upper echelons of the society, although it was not universal and those lower down the social order are known to have had the procedure done. The Egyptian hieroglyph for "penis" depicts either a circumcised or an erect organ. Source: Wikipedia


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the age of twenty and after being mistreated and used for most of his years, the Prince's attention and tender smiles were like a balm for everything Leonellus was ever put through. He wanted to feel the gentle weight and warmth of Ahkmenrah's arm around his shoulders and his melodious voice caressing the shell of his ear. Was that a crime? The slave already experienced the anxiety and the fear that the Prince's silence provoked him. Leonellus wanted him to be close to him. He wanted to feel his skin against his. He wanted him to keep looking at him like he was someone. And even if he knew that he would never have an identity, he only wished to be happy and no longer dignified. He could spend the rest of his life walking around barefoot if that promised him a few kisses from the Prince. Leonellus no longer asked for impossibles, he only wished to be loved.  
> However he knew what this could bring him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💋💋💋

“We are going somewhere, Your Majesty?” Leonellus asked little after he opened his eyes. He already began to move on his cot to take the fabric he often used to cover his red hair, ready to walk out of the palace if that was what the Prince wanted.

“I woke you up?” Ahkmenrah walked back towards him. He was awfully noisy to get to sneak out of the bedroom without the slave noticing. He crouched and put his hand over Leonellus' arm. “It's still very early. You should sleep a little more.”

“I don't mind.” Not one slave ever got to sleep as much as desired.

“No, no.” The Prince pushed a little more, forcing him to lay on his back. “Stay, I'm going alone.” The Roman frowned slightly. “I want to pray. And I need to be alone to do so.” he explained briefly before he put their three cats on top of Leonellus like they could keep him from following him. “Stay here. Sleep some more. Or do as you please. It won't take me very long, but I need some guidance.” Hathor would tell him how to act and then he would give her as much as she wants so Leonellus will love him back. And then... That's it! They will love each other until the very end and they will be buried in the same tomb. The Aaru will welcome them and they will resume their story there.

“Do you usually look so handsome while praying?” he couldn't help but mumble. He did look more handsome than usual. The Prince had a beautiful face and graceful body, but today he looked even better. The necklace made of faience beaded strings brought out his eyes. Leonellus touched the ornament with the tip of his fingers and followed the strings around his neck, only to feel the counterweight resting over the back of his neck. There he felt something engraved he couldn't quite figure it out by only touching.

“You think I look handsome?” His features softened and he sat down over the cot with him, taking very little space to not bother Leonellus or the cats. The slave nodded. The Prince bit his lip bashfully yet, funny enough, he looked somehow cocky about it. It was endearing and for that reason, Leonellus caressed his shoulder, brushing his white and light cape before he traced his thumb over the curve of the muscle under his olive skin. “Well, I think you look dashing too.” Leonellus snorted. Surely he did. Pale as he was, with his strange hair and nose, laying buried under three cats that were getting bigger and bigger and while wearing the very same clothes day after day. He didn't feel handsome. He _wasn't_. When Leonellus was told that he was beautiful for a slave, that merely meant that he had no visible wounds or scars, not that he was a delight to watch. He was not despleasing to the eye. That's how a slave was beautiful: when their looks were not a problem to the master. “I think so!” Ahkmenrah insisted. “You are. I've never seen anyone that I like more than you.” But he forced himself to stop there. He needs to speak with Hathor, first. “Anyway.” Ahkmenrah began to stand up and Leonellus continued to look at him, in silence. “I'll be back shortly, alright? Just... Stay here.” He still crouched once again to caress Leonellus' cheek. He truly couldn't help himself, sometimes. He had a lovely face he wanted to touch all the time. “I'm leaving!” The Prince huffed abruptly before he left the room without saying anything more.

First, he made sure to find their new priest. The once priest of the temple of Ptah was a kind man who had the habit to smile in such a reassuring way. He was already better than Priest Hanbar and Priest Jabari to his eyes. The Prince liked him and had his favor. He promised that everything he could need to please Hathor was already waiting for him in her temple. He only gave him the sekhem[1] so he could invoke her presence.

As soon as he walked out of the royal edification, everybody stopped to observe at him. Ahkmenrah was fond of his people. They always looked at him with kind eyes and offered him gentle words. But it was his mother's advice to _always_ bring guards with him no matter what. From Aaru, she would still want him to be protected. He greeted them by smiling at the adults and waving at the kids in his way to the temple. This time he decided to walk, to show Hathor how humble he felt that morning and how he was willing to pray like any other man in this land. When they saw he was wearing a menat[2] and carrying a sekhem, they knew that their future ruler was _in love_. And because they wanted the best for their Prince some of them, the most daring ones and could afford it, approached his guards with food and beer in their hands. Some carried flowers, knowing that while Hathor couldn't consume them, she would cherish their beauty.

Ahkmenrah noticed and approached the two first women closer to one of his guards, willing to give him their offerings. When they were about to kneel, he stopped them by raising a hand: “No need. I want to talk to you.”

“Your Majesty.” Their devotion sounded sweet and gentle. Like they expected him to become a salvation for many. He would be Pharaoh; he would show compassion and tenderness.

“I appreaciate your presents, but you should keep them. For your family, for your children.” he beamed. “I have everything I need to honor the Goddess.”

“The Mistress of Love must be pleased so she will bless you with a loving partner, Your Majesty.” The wrong person could ruin their Prince. Turn him into an envious and distrusting man.

“I'm praying to be loved in return.” Ahkmenrah confessed. “She will tell me if I decided well.” But he already the answer to that question. While he grew fond of Leonellus at first because he was quiet and mysterious and came from a strange land, now he was sure that he loved him because he took care of him when his mother died. And because he offered him nothing but understanding and care, so far. There was plenty to discover about him, but what he saw, he loved. Ahkmenrah loved his honesty and his tenderness, even if he spoke harsh words, sometimes. _Maybe_ he deserved to be scolded here and there. “Please, feed your family. Nothing will flatter her more than a prosperous land.”

Both women obeyed but didn't leave until they got to hold his hands and squeeze them. He smiled gladly and only resumed walking when they were out sight.

Once he stepped inside of the temple, everybody in there walked out to give him privacy. Hathor wouldn't show up in front of a crowd. The relationship between humans and Gods was awfully personal and shouldn't be shared with anyone else. When the large doors closed, both guards stood outside, making sure no one would interrupt his prayer.

The incense was already burning and filling the air with a sweet scent. The barrels of beer and wine and the trays of fruit were already laid out in front of the statue of Hathor.

The Prince kneeled and rattled the sekhem three times. Then, he closed his eyes and spoke: “Hathor, I need your guidance.”

Unlike Vesta and Leonellus, he didn't have to wait. Pharaoh was the house of the Gods. He _must_ earn their favor before ruling. Ahkmenrah had Khonsu's since birth without knowing. The others fell in love with the gentle spirit that lived inside the Prince. He was bright and fair unlike others before him. Ahkmenrah was loved by the Gods and they wanted him as much as his people did.

The air became a little warmer, stroking his arms like a gentle embrace.

 _Ah_ , Hathor's voice was melodious as it could be, _our beloved boy_. Ahkmenrah felt the tingling sensation of her hands over his cheeks. She was one of his favourite deities to pray to. She always listened to him. Always gave him good advice. _Look at you. My necklace fits you well. You look handsome_ , she muttered touching the menat around his neck. He felt the beads raise and then fall lightly over his collarbones.

Ahkmenerah smiled, thinking that both the Goddess and his dearest friend said the very same thing. He felt just as flattered. He licked his lips and parted them, doubting for a second. _No fear, my darling. You know you can ask me anything_. Hathor _was_ love.

“First... I'd like to ask about my mother.” the Prince began, perhaps a little scared. “Is she in Aaru? Is she waiting for us?” There he stored all of his hope; in that beautiful land after death. Leonellus comforted him during his grief, but he needed to know. He needed to hold onto something so she wouldn't keep appearing in his dreams. He couldn't worry about the dead when there was so much left to do for the living.

 _We love her as much as we love you_ , Hathor replied. _We wouldn't abandon her, Beloved_.

“So she is there, isn't she?” he insisted once again.

Hathor smiled. And while he couldn't see her with his eyes closed, he could _feel_ it. _She is watching. And she expects you to be as honorable as she raised you to be_.

“It's my wish to make her proud. I want to learn and become a wise man.” Kawab would help him. He would understand that Leonellus was an ally. That the slave boy helped to balance his emotions when those became too much and made him careless or eager.

 _You will be_. Something tickled the roof of his mouth and he licked it with the tip of his tongue. Hathor laughed and asked: _Are you going to tell me about your little slave, now?_

Of course she knew. She was a Goddess. She could see right through him. She _lived_ in his body. “I want him to love me back.” the Prince whispered.

_You are certain he doesn't love you?_

“Not like I do.” Ahkmenrah shook his head.

 _Of course not. He is not free to love whoever he wants. He loves you in the only way that he can: quietly_ , Hathor explained.

“I don't think he does.” he showed insecurity. The Goddess of love soothed him with her hands all over his cheeks and purred: _Oh, my dear_. “And I do. For the very first time, I love. I love in the way you love someone that doesn't share your blood, but shares your spirit. What he has, I lack and need. He might be young, but he is wise and caring. Comforted me when I needed it the most.” he licked his lips. “This love for him will keep growing.”

 _I'll feast on it_ , Hathor promised.

“But you have to tell me. I don't know what to do. I always take the wrong step.” He didn't know when to act or when to give him space. “I'm humbly asking you to guide me so I can earn his love. I don't want you to charm him. I don't want you to touch his heart. I want to do that myself. But I don't know how. He does not want presents and sees my lack of experience as _innocence_.” That forced him to keep talking. “I'm not. When I see him, I know what I want.”

 _And what is that you want from your red slave?_ Hathor purred.

“ _Everything_.” His voice became heavier and the Goddess was _delighted_ with his desire. “I want to brush my nose against his hair. I want to squeeze the flesh of his thighs with my own fingers. I want to mark my teeth all over his collarbones and shoulders. Hathor, I want him to be all _mine_. Erase the memories of those who had the privilege to meet him before I did. I want to become what he wants and who he loves.” But then again... “I lost Idu. We couldn't find him anywhere. What if that Babi's way to punish me for not taking... another approach?” Maybe the baboon didn't want him to be so calm and gentle. Maybe he would lose his passion for not wanting to be violent. Hurting Leonellus would rot his flesh. He'd fall apart with disgrace.

 _Oh, that foolish monkey! Pay no attention to him or his brutish ways!_ Hathor huffed, antagonizing a love that was seen as valid while being forced. _You listen to me? None of that. You are a man with a great passion. You don't rely on a funny little animal for anything_.

“Yes, b—”

 _Don't argue with me_.

And because Ahkmenrah was not a fool, he decided to obey. “So...? What can I do?”

 _Easy. Do what no one did before: ask_.

“Ask?”

 _Before doing anything; ask_ , she explained. _He told you about love being an obligation, didn't he?_

“That's not right.”

 _It's not. That's why you should love him the right way. He must understand that you don't see him as a slave. You can't love someone who is underneath you. When you look at him, see the man, not the slave. When you talk to him, call his name and not his title_.

“I already do that.” He only called him Deshret a couple of times before he heard his beautiful name.

_What's something you can offer him that would help you symbolize that respect?_

“...” Ahkmenrah frowned and almost opened his eyes. Something deep inside of him forced him to keep them closed. After a very long silence, he denied. “I don't know...”

 _Think about it_.

“But...!”

 _I can't give you all the answers. You know what you have to do. Follow your heart, I'll guide it_.

The Prince sighed and nodded, briefly. “Of course.”

 _Don't be scared, I'll be by your side. Trust me_.

“I always do.” he confessed. Love was the only certainty that did not fade away even during moments of despair.

 _Be safe until the next time we see each other, Beloved_.

And with that familiar tenderness and the comforting warmth filling his veins, Hathor vanished. It took him a few seconds to open his eyes, but when he did so, the fruit was now without color or taste. The barrells were empty and the sekhem all rusty. The only thing left untouched was the menat over his collarbones. He played with it, thoughtful, before he stood up and slowly walked towards the doors of the temple.

What could he offer to Leonellus as a symbol of his respect?

*** * ***

The Prince had to run back to the palace when the sky became dark with thick clouds. The rain fell suddenly, getting his clothes and his hair all wet. He was in his way towards his room when he saw that Kawab was walking out of it. While he trusted his Vizier blindly, it was quite clear that he didn't like the Roman boy all that much. He _had_ to protect Leonellus.

“Kawab.” he called his name, slowing down and dragging his soaked cape over the floor.

“Your Majesty, I was trying to find you.” he nodded. “Maybe we should talk later.” The man suggested as the raindrops kept streaming down his cheeks from his hair to his chin. He couldn't help but notice the special necklace he was wearing. “Why aren't you wearing a wesekh?”

The Prince didn't hide his face in shame, nor he stuttered when he said: “I wanted Hathor's guidance.”

“What for?” Kawab sounded accusative.

Ahkmenrah looked at the door of his chambers, safely closed. Then, he licked his lips and confessed: “I'm in love with Leonellus.”

Kawab closed his eyes and sighed. He knew he would hear those words sooner or later. He was not surprised but that didn't mean he was _pleased_. “It cannot happen.”

“It will happen.” he frowned, chidishly defensive. “He took care of me when I was miserable. He is calm and intelligent. You always tell me I shouldn't let my emotions rule over my decisions. If I keep him close, he will help me calm down. Learn from my mistakes. He knows plenty about things I know nothing about. Maybe... Maybe it will prove to be useful in the future. What if Rome arrives to our shore?”

“We will fight, then.” The Vizier would rather die than live under Roman tyranny.

“Who says that they have vicious intentions?” Ahkmenrah insisted.

“They are _Romans_.” It's what they do: conquer and transform. Those who fell under the voracious fangs of the She-Wolf weren't allowed to keep their culture.

“He is a Roman too and he has a peaceful spirit. He would never fight anyone.” He had the burning need to defend Leonellus from those accusations.

“He is a Roman to our eyes, but he is not to _theirs_. He is a slave.” Kawab explained. “Slaves don't know how to fight; they would _rebel_ , if not.”

The Prince stubbornly shook his head. “You can't see him like I can.” He was the only one who got to see Leonellus as he was. The only one who knew him as a _person_. “This is the end of this conversation. We will talk later, if you truly have something important to say and not offend the one I love.” No longer his dearest friend? Kawab was dismissed before Ahkmenrah raised his hand and slipped inside of his chambers.

The old man sighed and rubbed his eyes. They didn't need this. What they needed was a wife for their future Pharaoh and the promise of a healthy heir. They needed him to be responsible and start to take his father's position, so the transition would be smooth and accepted by their people. His love for the young slave didn't have a place in his plans and therefore, should cease to exist. This was not him being selfish and or unnecessarily cruel. Everything he ever did, it was for the well-being of their country that he loved like a father, a wife and a son even if he had none of those anymore.

He made his decision and headed towards Pharaoh's chambers. The guards looked at him briefly before he allowed himself inside after knocking. Their ruler would not answer. He was not living his best moment and Kawab has been trying to hide Merenkahre's condition as much as he could by keeping him away from those who would talk and sow the fear among their people.

Pharaoh didn't talk much anymore. Neither he left his chambers when he was required to do anything more than sit in silence and let his Vizier do the talking. Lately, he only stood in front of his balcony, observing everything that belonged to him but that didn't look as beautiful anymore. The death of his wife shielded the Sun. Nothing was bright or hopeful anymore and it was practically impossible for him to keep going. It was him who comforted his son after Shepseheret's death but after he got over his duty as a father, he ached like a loving husband.

“We need to talk.” Kawab approached him. “This is getting out of hand. The boy needs to leave before he brings damnation to our kingdom.” He was terrified of the idea of Ahkmenrah growing fond of their culture. Or worse: having to initiate a war. The Prince was far from knowing about strategy. They would lose. “We'll escort him back to Rome. No reward needed.” He didn't want to recover the money Nephi spent. He wanted him away from Ahkmenrah.

Pharaoh did not speak, still observing the rain falling over the date palms and the temples.

“Merenkahre.” he called his name. In the intimacy of his chambers, he could do so. That was still his cousin. “You must listen to me. That slave boy will bring us trouble. The Prince is confusing his own feelings.”

Pharaoh blinked and turned his head towards him. He didn't look like he was aware of anything around him. After a brief silence, he asked: “The redhead?”

“Yes.” Kawab nodded. “Ahkmenrah believes that he is in love with him.” And that was _delirious_. No prince could ever love a _slave_. “We need to do something before we regret it.”

He lost Pharaoh's interest as he looked ahead him. When the Vizier was almost convinced that their conversation ended there, he added: “He comforted my son.” He could barely remember a thing, but the way his son held the slave was still in the back of his mind. That need couldn't be pretense or misleading feelings.

“He was _grieving_.” The slave had no other purpose than to make the Prince feel better. And to keep him from sweating too much by fanning him.

“ _She_ told me that the slave was sweet.” And the deceased woman now had the same power as Hathor, Isis and Anukis combined. “That he would help our son.” After exhaling weakly, he whispered: “And she always knew what was good for him.”

Shepseheret spoiled the Prince very much like Merenkahre did. Their heir was overly tender and very likely to be at the mercy of others that saw kindness as weakness.

“You should see the way he behaves around him.” Kawab shook his head. That romance could not begin. If it does, it will bring them nothing but misery.

Pharaoh snorted and denied. “The Sun has set for me, Kawab. I can no longer see.” Not a single thing. He was now waiting until he would consume himself and join her. Let his son show their people his greatness and honesty. They would look after him from Aaru and wait for the day when they would be together, _forever_. “I trust her judgment. The boy stays.”

While Merenkahre didn't have his mind with him —not as sharp as it used to be, at least—, that was a direct order. And his loyalty to his cousin kept him from forcing the situation to favor his decision. Kawab closed his eyes and exhaled. _A terrible mistake_. “As you wish.” He bowed and stepped back before he walked out of his chambers. The guards were there, and so was Kahmunrah, with his eager eyes on the door. He used to be a boy hungry for power, now he was a man desperate for revenge. “Still listening behind closed doors, Kahmunrah? It's about time you get rid of that terrible habit of yours.” He said before he began to walk away.

He was unlucky enough to have the younger man walking after him. “The slave, huh?” He grinned poisonous like a snake. “I don't trust him either. _Romans_. Are they to be trusted at all?”

Kawab knew the game he was trying to play. Agree with him and earn his favor so when his father would die, he would have someone on his side to rule. Kahmunrah wouldn't be a good Pharaoh. What Ahkmenrah had, Kahmunrah missed. Sure, the youngest was too kind, but the oldest was ruthless. No word came out from him.

“I was not interested. A pathetic thing that he is: pale and weak. Hardly a threat. I thought: _First he had a monkey, now he has a Roman. Does that make any difference?_ ” he kept talking and the Vizier dreaded every single moment of it. He kept hissing and hissing the more he spoke. “But then... I remembered my brother's weakness for pretty boys.” He stepped closer to the Vizier. “It would only take for him to say what he wants to hear, do what he wants to get from him and show what he wants to see for Ahkmenrah to want to offer the slave _everything_ that he has.” Kawab agreed, but he kept himself silent. “He's already poisoning him. You heard him talking about _his_ Gods, didn't you? You know what happened with the last Pharaoh that decided to deny _our_ Gods.” Yes, the end of their dynasty. Another of Kawab's _many_ fears. “A slave that never had anything would have to be _stupid_ to miss the chance to live like a king.” And then, he only hummed: “I'd keep an eye on him if I were you.”

Kahmunrah walked away and Kawab had to force himself to not think about everything he said.

*** * ***

“It finally stopped raining” Leonellus observed with Niveus still in his arms. That clingy nature of his made him think that perhaps he had the spirit of a little boy trapped in his body. No cat was ever that desperate for affection as him. He caressed his back and the tabby cat purred, appreciative. Ahkmenrah hummed from his bed, absently playing with Rubra and Ater. The fact there was no enthusiasm from the Prince's part caught his attention. He walked towards the bed and looked down at him: “Still missing Idu? Thinking about your mother, perhaps?” He would comfort him if he needed him to.

Ahkmenrah sighed and nodded. “Yes, _always_. But it's not that.”

“Would want to talk about it, Your Majesty?” Leonellus offered.

He was so sweet and lovely that the Prince couldn't help but smile at him, holding his wrist and squeezing it warmly. “You never thought about calling me by my name?”

“No.” The answer was quick and blunt. Leonellus was not so innocent to make such mistake.

“Maybe it wouldn't be so strange. We are friends, after all...” he mumbled, toying with the idea as he kept brushing his tender and overly pale skin. He would cover his arms in gold and jewels if he allowed him to.

“You are still a Prince.” the slave explained briefly. “I assume that only your parents are allowed to call you by your name.” In a way, that was true. “But I can call you something different, Iry-pat.” he tried by raising an eyebrow. Ahkmenrah shook his head. “Morning and Evening Star, maybe?” Leonellus joked with a small smile on his lips. He found that title _a bit much_.

The young heir snorted and grabbed Leonellus by his waist, getting him to lay down by his side. Niveus complained by the sudden move but refused to leave his position. The slave's legs were draped over his lap and he made sure he would keep them there by resting a hand over them. “You sure love to make fun of me.”

“Only a little.” the redhead replied, amused. Niveus buried his head on the slave neck and he brushed the tip of his long nose against his fur.

The Prince envied their pet. He decided to caress Niveus' back, as well, letting the other two roam around the room. He leaned over is forearm, over Leonellus. The slave blinked and raised his chin, slightly, keeping his green eyes on him. Ahkmenrah found the Roman's hand on top of the warm and calm body of the cat. He caressed his fingers and shrugged a little bit, bashful. “I would like it if you called me by my name.” Maybe that was what Hathor meant. That surely would let him understand that he respected him, wouldn't it?

“I can't do that.” Leonellus whispered as he denied. “You know I can't.” If he starts to use his name in public, they would assume the worst about him. And that could get him killed. It wasn't so unthinkable since they already tried _twice_. That was a very high price to pay for something that could only be a game for the Prince. “We are not the same.”

“In a way, we are.” Ahkmenrah insisted, holding his hand properly. “You and I. We are both made of flesh, aren't we? We both fall asleep at night and need to eat to keep going.”

“My flesh is not a sanctuary for the Gods.” His body was only used by men. “And while we both sleep and eat, you have the right to decide when to do both of them. I don't.” Leonellus' thumb brushed over his knuckles. “We are not the same.” he repeated. There was sadness lingering in his voice.

“There's no one out there better for me than you.” Ahkmenrah released his hand and cupped his cheek. Leonellus looked away, noticing Vesta's flame. It became brighter when Ahkmenrah leaned in. It took him all of his will to turn his head slightly when he aimed to kiss his lips. The Prince rested his forehead against his temple after being rejected. The flame wavered. Ahkmenrah pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. “I apologize.” he mumbled. He caressed his cheekbone with his thumb one last time before he got off him.

Leonellus sat up and reached to grab his cape. He pulled gently and practically pleaded: “Please, don't be mad at me.”

Ahkmenrah nodded, feeling defeated. He tried to kiss him twice. Maybe Hathor was wrong. Maybe he didn't love him like he would want him to but he couldn't blame him for that. It was on him for not being what he wanted. He turned and took the slave's hand. He pressed a tender and honest kiss against the back of his hand. “I could never.”

While he didn't show his anger or frustration, the Prince didn't try to touch him or seek his comfort during the following three days. He was quiet and absent and that made Leonellus feel scared. He didn't want to misunderstand his position, but to lose the favor of the Prince could also imply death. Or being sent away. This land was far from being gentle to his pale complexion and his incapacity to deal with the heat.

Ahkmenrah began to entertain himself writing down everything that crossed his mind. The Prince did so in silence, sitting on the floor and writing over the short and small table. Leonellus observed him from his cot and tried to smile at him when he looked up to think about the following sentence; all of them extremely sentimental. The young man was pouring his soul into his corny little poem:

_With his green eyes and his linen skin, my litte lion shapes my idea of beauty. I long to feel his flaming hair with my fingers and his carnelian lips with my own mouth. One kiss from him and I would never need to eat or drink again. No wine would taste as sweet. No..._

What kind of fruit could he use? How would his lips taste like? He knew that Leonellus was not fond of dates. So not _that_. Ahkmenrah caressed his chin, playing with his reed pen.

Taking that pause as the perfect chance to talk to him, Leonellus stood up and walked towards him. Ahkmenrah almost felt tempted to cover what he wrote with his arms before he remembered that while the slave could talk his language well enough, he could barely read it to write it. The redhead smiled doubtfully again and kneeled by his side. While Leonellus considered himself a rather clever boy, he never learned how to properly interact with others. So he either looked distant or awfully insecure. The latter, at that very moment.

He gestured towards the drying ink and asked: “You don't want to share it with me?” And with that voice, he sounded like he was _pleading_.

“No.” Ahkmenrah quickly denied.

The red slave licked his lips and shifted a little closer to him. The Prince was mad at him and was acting distant to punish him. It _had_ to be that. But he was willing to swallow his pride and do what he wanted if that brought him to their previous relationship. He loved to see the Prince smile and be so hopeful. He caressed his bare shoulder with his fingertips and opened his mouth, not knowing what to say. He exhaled and moved even closer, pressing his chest against his arm. The Prince looked at him, quite confused. Leonellus never seduced anyone before. Those who found him beautiful enough, fucked him. Simple as that. He never tried to gain their attention so this was new for him. If he was awful at common social situations, this was even _worse_. The slave tried to capture the Prince's lips in a kiss, but that sudden move startled Ahkmenrah and moved back. They almost knocked their foreheads together.

“What are you doing?” he asked, now beyond puzzled.

“Please, I'll do anything you want.” He wanted to have him back as he was: childish and chipper. That insecurity added to fear wouldn't allow him to have much dignity. If he had to beg, then he would beg. It wouldn't be the first time. “ _Anything at all_.” There he crosses the limit again, willing to become someone's doll for some proper affection.

“What? No.” Ahkemenrah frowned. He grabbed Leonellus by his arms and looked at him. “ _No_.” he repeated firmly. “I told you I wasn't mad.”

“You look mad!” he argued back. “I don't want that.” The Prince was the only person he talked to. He was the only one he _ever_ trusted other than Kyrillos. To lose him would create an emptiness in his chest he wouldn't be able to survive. Venus and Vesta named what he felt for the Prince and that word terrified Leonellus. But he couldn't act like he didn't care about his silence when he _did_. “I can't stand your silence.” And that was deliciously sarcastic, for Leonellus scolded him when Ahkmenrah complained about him not tallking to him either. “Not when hearing you talk has become such a delight for me.”

The Prince sighed and rubbed his arms up and down. “I am sorry.” But after being rejected, he couldn't help but step back and give him some space. It was the logical thing to do, wasn't it? “I'm not mad at you. But I don't ever want you to do something only because it would make _me_ happy. It either makes you happy too or you shouldn't even consider it.”

Leonellus doubted he ever felt fully happy. He looked up at the Prince, quiet and doubtful.

The Prince smiled tenderly. He brushed his beautiful hair and stroked his cheek. The slave leaned against his touch, cupping the back of his hand. Who would have told him that he would rely so much on tenderness when he was never offered any?

*** * ***

Both Iset and Amenhotep found amusement in the fact that they knew how to write and read way better than Leonellus did. They also peered at how he took notes and wrote down the very same word in different languages, so that would help him to decode proper sentences with time. Ahkmenrah enjoyed teaching the slave something even if there was a risk that he could, eventually, read the poems and notes he wrote about him and how much he liked him during those quiet and moody days they left behind. He could hide them, but once again, that would take plenty of effort. The Prince's room was only tidy because the slave took care of it.

But there was something that never failed to please him: the way Leonellus looked at him when he played with his nieces and nephew made him feel _so good_. It showed that the slave used to be responsible of children. He knew how to talk to them, how to encourage and soothe them. The dream of thinking about him raising his future heir made him all warm and happy even if it was _still_ impossible, no matter how fond the kids were of Leonellus, already. When the servants took them back to their chambers, they complained and wouldn't leave unless they would know that they would play together again soon.

Ahkmenrah sighed and fell over the mattress with a very happy smirk on his lips. The slave pinched his nose before he lit the oil candle that was closer to the bed. The Prince snickered and poked his side. It was clear that the Roman boy was about to turn that little game into a bit of a challenge, but that was before Rubra started hissing. Leonellus frowned and walked around the bed only to find at their ginger cat about to attack a very confused frog.

“Behave, Rubra.” he scolded the cat, stepping between them and picking the frog, that tried to hop off his hands. The cat followed him as he walked out of the bedroom, jumping and wanting him to return her her prey. “Your brother has the spirit of a child, but surely you have the heart of a huntress, don't you?” he hummed before he stopped right on his tracks, frowning as soon as he saw the river. The frog croaked, loudly. “The river has changed.” he spoke, loud enough so the Prince could hear him.

“Has it?” he answered still from the bed.

“Is it supposed to?” The water of the river reached about the middle of the stairs. Now, there were barely three steps left untouched by the Nile.

The slave heard how the Prince walked towards him. Then, he felt his hand over his back and Ahkmenrah raised his eyebrows. “Oh, of course!” he grinned as the moonlight made his teeth and his eyes shine. Leonellus couldn't help but smile himself. _Beautiful_. “Kawab told me that Wepet-Renpet[3] would happen soon!” The redhead tilted his head, curiously. “It's a festival! And I forgot!” It was known that their young heir loved parties. He must have been quite distracted when the Vizier warned him and he quickly forgot about it. “It's the beginning of a new year, Leonellus! The Nile is going to flood Kemet and the harvest is going to be prosperous! And surely we are going to celebrate it! For days!” Then he looked up and tried to find something in the dark sky above them. Then, Leonellus couldn't help but doing the same. “There it is!” he pointed up, wrapping his arm around the slave's shoulders. “The brightest star is back! Right there. Can you see it?” It was hard to miss; Leonellus nodded. “Yes! Fantastic!” The Prince bounced and rushed out of the bedroom, probably wanting to make sure that everything was ready. Perhaps he also wanted to arrange a special costume.

Either way, the slave rolled his eyes and released the frog. Rubra let the amphibian go, not thinking it was worth to get wet only to chase that ugly thing around.

*** * ***

Pharaoh did not join them during the festival of the beginning of the New Year. Ahkmenrah was the one responsible to take his place and that was far from being intimidating or dreadful task. Even their ruler was supposed to enjoy himself during Wepet-Renpet.

This time, unlike the party celebrated in Leonellus and Sekhmet's honor, the slave sat down by his side in a humble and wooden stool. He still remembered how incredibly uncomfortable he felt while sitting on a throne and how Kahmunrah only needed one hand to throw him to the floor. The Prince was still awfully close to him, leaning over the arm of the golden seat, getting in his space and telling him stories or jokes about the different dances and plays performed for his entertainment. Leonellus still felt conflicted and even he began to get tired of his own inability to make up his mind. No matter which decision he took, he should stick by it. And yet, he smiled and even chuckled when the Prince's lips brushed his ear. He felt stupid and he knew that Kyrillos would be so disappointed if he saw him in that situation. And yet, he couldn't stop because it made him feel _good_.

At the age of twenty and after being mistreated and used for most of his years, the Prince's attention and tender smiles were like a balm for everything Leonellus was ever put through. He wanted to feel the gentle weight and warmth of Ahkmenrah's arm around his shoulders and his melodious voice caressing the shell of his ear. Was that a crime? The slave already experienced the anxiety and the fear that the Prince's silence provoked him. Leonellus wanted him to be close to him. He wanted to feel his skin against his. He wanted him to keep looking at him like he was _someone_. And even if he knew that he would _never_ have an identity, he only wished to be happy and no longer dignified. He could spend the rest of his life walking around barefoot if that promised him a few kisses from the Prince. Leonellus no longer asked for impossibles, he only wished to be loved.

However he knew what this could bring him. No one would let a Prince fall in love with a slave. The responsibility was on Ahkmenrah's shoulders and the Roman slave would be seen as a distraction. He didn't forget how he was almost killed twice and before they even grew as close as they were now. When he kept talking to his ear and caressing his arms, Leonellus enjoyed it greatly, but then a quiet voice in his head told him to be _careful_. That plenty would be watching and remembering the way he behaved tonight.

The Prince's hand moved from his arm towards his back and rubbed his warm palm up and down Leonellus' clothed back. The slave played with the scarab hanging from his neck before he dared to look up at him. “Are you having fun?” He always asked and always cared if he was comfortable or not. It almost looked like he was his first priority.

Leonellus felt like it was too late. He already fell in love, didn't he?

“I am.” the redhead nodded. He only had to either forget his fear or dwell on it. Enough of this dance before he hurts the Prince and betrays his trust.

Without taking the hand off his back, Ahkmenrah leaned forward to take a few grapes in his free hand. He ate them absently before he raised his eyebrows and pointed forward. “You'll like this one.” Leonellus followed his finger with his eyes and noticed how the next play was about to start. “It's about the battle between Horus and Set for the kingship of Egypt.” Of course one of his favourites myth had to be about his _ancestry_.

It was a rather long story. Both Horus and Set had to go through plenty of bouts, each one more complicated than the one before. Leonellus couldn't help but think about Hercules and his twelve labours. At some point, both deities even tried to convince different Gods and Goddesses to take their side so one of them could sit on Osiris' throne. Set kept losing against Horus and the young God earned the favor of many. That woke the anger and hatred in the God of Fire and Chaos.

When it was just the two of them alone, Ahkmenrah squeezed Leonellus' hip and the Roman boy leaned over the arm of the throne; getting closer to him. “I think you'll find this part a little bit strange.” The Prince warned before he fixed the fabric that always covered his hair while being in public. It was a good idea considering that Set was in the very same room as they were, with a tangled mane of red hair.

At first he truly thought that Set and Horus were wrestling and considered that the feat looked awfully mundane. He would rather watch the bit where they became hippopotami and tried to see who was the one that lasted more under water again than a common fight. But the way Set handled Horus' body in the end was a bit too familiar. He parted his lips and frowned. “But...” Leonellus looked at the Prince. “Set is his _uncle_.” Incest was condemned in Rome. One of the greatest and most hideous tragedies a family could endure.

“It's not love.” Ahkmenrah shook his head. “Set's passion is uncontrollable.” Of course the God of malice would be portrayed as constantly wanting to soothe his lust with willing or unwilling partners. “He aims to disgrace Horus.” The slave sighed and looked away for a moment. The Prince noticed and touched his chin, to get his eyes back on him. “I can stop it, if you want me to.”

“It doesn't bother me.” Leonellus shook his head. He never tried to fight those who seeked to find pleasure in his body because he knew he had no right to say _no_. But each time he heard about the myths about the desired ones wanting to escape or putting up a fight made him feel like he _should_ have the right to do that, as well. He _should_ have the chance to voice what he wanted and what he didn't. For someone to ask before trying to touch him. The young heir looked far from convinced. He parted his lips and before he could say anything, Leonellus held his wrist, kindly, and pulled a bit to get his attention back. “I'm alright”

Ahkmenrah brushed his thumb over the curve of his chin and the red slave smiled briefly.

Hoping to turn the situation around, Leonellus pressed his shoulder against his briefly and said: “Explain it to me? I'll understand better if you do.” Any excuse was good to listen to his voice. It soothed him.

The Prince put his arm around him once more and brushed his thumb against the curve of his waist. “Set aims to put his seed inside of Horus as he would with a woman. When they both claim that they are rightful heirs to the throne of Egypt, he will use it against Horus. No man is supposed to rule if there's another with greater power than him.”

“But it's not about power, is it?” It was the very same belief as the one as back home. “It's about pleasure.” Not in that situation. He doubted Horus obtained any from it or that Set's intention behind the vicious act was the satisfaction that came with release. Only more and more cruelty and another way to downgrade and shame his nephew. “I mean, one acts and takes the role that he finds more pleasurable.”

Ahkmenrah blinked and then decided to chuckle a little nervous. “Not many are willing to take that position.”

“That was far from what used to bother me.” Once again, it was not the submission, it was the lack of decision what hurt him the most.

“ _Uh_.” Ahkmenrah only managed to blurt out, quite stupidly when he understood what Leonellus tried to say with that. Then he closed his lips and the warmth spread from his cheeks to his ears and he was _red_ , too. He swallowed and looked around, reaching out for his goblet and taking a sip of his wine.

Leonellus was terribly clumsy with everything related to sex and seduction but he knew more than the Prince, for he never did _anything_ at all. Sometimes he felt smug about that and maybe during those moments, he wanted to feel like he had the upper hand for a few seconds. He raised his chin a little bit, quite proud of that reaction, but allowed the Prince to have some peace as he stayed in silence.

Horus captured Set's seed, as he was pushing between his thighs and not inside of him. Leonellus felt relieved by that detail, but it didn't last much because his own mother, Isis, cut his hands to keep him from being stained by his uncle. The bewilderment continued when he saw how the Mother obtained her own son's seed and spread it over the lettuce leaves that later Set ate with ignorance. Leonellus squinted and tilted his head back, disapprovingly.

“ _Graces_.” the Roman slave eventually managed to huff when Thoth summoned Horus' sperm from Set's head, creating a Solar Disk as the very evidence of the victory of the nephew over his uncle. “This was _insane_.”

“I told you you would find it a little bit strange...” the Prince mumbled, still feeling shy and clearly thinking about what Leonellus implied previously. He has been obsessing with the idea of having him underneath him, willingly accepting his passion and gasping and chuckling with desire, wanting more and more from the Prince. Wouldn't that make a glorious sight?

And because he looked so timid and so beautiful, Leonellus felt tempted and amused. He placed his hand over the one that was still over his waist, caressing the back of it. In that very moment he forgot where they were and what he was. He _must_ have to act like that. Even someone as rational as Leonellus could feel tempted to act passionatelly around the Prince. “Strange, indeed. But Minerva was born from Jupiter's head.” Even if he doubted that any man could give birth, either to a deity or a solar disk, from their _heads_. But that's why they were Gods, right? Because they could do the _unthinkable_.

“Mhm.” the Prince nodded stiffly, with the palm of his hand growing a little moist over his waist. He wasn't even moving his fingers anymore. Leonellus kept caressing his knuckles with his fingertips. He finished his drink with a long gulp, hoping that wine would help him with nervous and tense body. Since it didn't, he thought about grabbing some more grapes, anxiously eating them. He had to keep himself busy to not think about Leonellus in his bed. Hathor, help him because he might lose his trust tonight. But it was the slave who stopped him from stuffing his mouth before he would end up choking. He lowered his hand with his own and Ahkmenrah finally dared to look at him. He swallowed thickly, both his nerves and the mass of grapes inside of his mouth.

Leonellus looked at him and he knew that tonight, everything would change. He couldn't deny what he felt any longer, could he? His love for the Prince could bring him death. And probably would. He would die young and without much dignity, but if that implied being loved like the person he was never allowed to become, then maybe it wasn't so bad. Many slaves died without getting to experience joy. He couldn't exchange something for nothing. If he wanted love, then he would have to understand that it might not last much. _That's alright_ , Leonellus convinced himself. If he was the lover of a young Prince, then he'll become an old memory for a Pharaoh and therefore, he won't intrude in his plans. Kings need heirs, even he knew that. The red slave was no God, he couldn't conceive. Not even from his skull, like Jupiter or Set.

Ahkmenrah looked doubtful, like if he tried to kiss him again, he would be rejected for a third time. Not even he, bright and cheerful, could handle that and even less in public. So he continued to look at him, with his eyebrows furrowed and a very clear question in his grey eyes: _Do you love me as much as I do?_

 _Yes. Oh, yes, yes!_ He didn't know how he allowed himself to fall in love, but now it was too late. Still, he couldn't kiss him there, in front of everyone. The Roman was about to look around but the Prince's hand finally squeezed his waist, to keep him from doing such. He sighed and licked his lips before he bowed his head forward. Leonellus captured the last grape the Prince was holding with his mouth. His lips touched Ahkmenrah's thumb before he leaned back and chewed in silence. He ate from his hand; a symbol of trust, of how smitten he already was by his kindness and greatness. Leonellus loved him and he _couldn't_ pretend anymore.

The Prince didn't know how he could possibly react to that. That's why he blinked, puzzled, as the tips of his pointy ears began to turn red again. Leonellus decided to not tease any further and accept that the following part, the one that would be obvious and could probably imply a confession, had to happen in the privacy of a room. Either that or not waking up at all tomorrow morning. He stood up and Ahkmenrah turned his hand to capture his wrist, holding him in place. Leonellus looked down at him, listening to anything he had to say.

After a few seconds of silence, Ahkmenrah could achieve to create a proper sentence and leave clear which were his feelings: “I might be young,” as Leonellus called him. Another word for pure or clueless. “but my fire burns like any other's.” His passion and his desire. But also his fear and his frustration, too.

The slave nodded and smiled down at him, tenderly. He was not rejecting him. He only needed a couple of seconds to understand his decision. To keep himself from acting far too impulsively. “Warm and beautiful like the Sun.” The Morning and Evening Star. He is bright just like one. “Will you become ambers at night?”

Once again, Ahkmenrah didn't know how to answer. He only become warmer and warmer and his grip turned weak enough for Leonellus to release himself. The Prince made himself small on his throne as he saw him descending the stairs. His bare feet made a gentle sound over the marble and then, _just like that_ , the answer to Hathor's question came to him.

*** * ***

Leonellus walked and walked until he reached the corridor with the statues. He walked past Isis, that sheltered the devastated Prince when his mother died. She wouldn't be as kind with him and he couldn't possibly blame her. Ahkmenrah had a natural grace that made the tenderness in someone's chest bloom like a flower under the Sun.

He kept wandering around and saw Thoth and Hemsut; he would tell him to use his head and she would encourage him to let destiny lead him where he was supposed to be. Then, he spotted Nun and Tayet, the river and death. He did feel like he was suffocating: that river that was once gentle dragged towards misfortune.

It wasn't long until he saw Khonsu, bathed by the moonlight, with his sidelock and the Moon Disk crowning him. The view of the traveller brought him a strange sense of peace and he felt like the cold stone he was made of would offer him clarity. The red slave allowed himself to sit by his feet over the pedestal and leaned against him until his cheek rested against his leg. He closed his green eyes and merely whispered: “Khonsu, eat my heart[4].” If not, he would give it to the Prince tonight. Anubis would have to ask Ahkmenrah for it so he will be able to weigh it after he dies.

While his left cheek was growing cold because of the still body of the God, the right one become warm like someone was cupping it with a caring hand. There was no piercing pain in his chest. The deity denied his offering and allowed the Prince to have the slave's heart. Leonellus touched his chest and his heart was far from nervous, understanding and accepting what could happen as soon as he would walk back to their room. “I love him.” he whispered before he bit his lip. “Oh, how much I love him.” It was both thrilling and scary. The God brushed his thumb over his cheekbone and Leonellus felt safe, like he would look after him, too. Khonsu knew him. He had eyes in the Prince's room through the table. He saw their love flourish and how smitten the slave truly was even if he wasn't capable of voicing his feelings.

Meanwhile, Ahkmenrah used that time to get exactly what he needed to let Leonellus understand that he respected him and that he was willing to love him as a man, very much as he was and not as a slave. That he wanted to make him happy and that he wouldn't only use him for his own pleasure. He valued the Roman far too much to disregard his emotions and desires. He waited in his room, a little anxious because even if the redhead left the party before he did, he didn't arrive yet. He bounced over the balls of his feet, looking at the door. He tried sitting down for a little while, but he couldn't possibly stay still. Eventually, he ended up pacing around the bedroom, with the three cats following him and meowing, either worried or confused about his behaviour.

Leonellus returned to the Prince's chambers after being coddled by Khonsu. He knew that what he was going to do came from a place of serenity and conviction. He accepted the consequences that could come from this.

“Oh, Leonellus!” Ahkmenrah sighed as he heard the doors opening at last. “I was about to leave to find you.” he walked towards him and held his hands in his own, leading him towards the bed.

“I have something to tell you.” the slave spoke.

“I have something to tell you too!” the Prince replied as he sat him down over his bed and caressed his shoulders. “Would you let me speak first? I can't contain myself any longer. Gods, I would wait in any other situation but...!” He looked _euphoric_. Like something wonderful happened while he was away. “I truly can't! I want to... Please? Let me talk?” Ahkmenrah raised his eyebrows, urgining to give him an answer. Leonellus smiled, fondly, and nodded. How could he deny him anything when he was so candid? “Great!” He cupped his face and caressed the slave's face tenderly with his thumbs. “I went to Hathor's temple for some guidance. Do you remember that day? When you thought I looked _handsome_?” He liked to bring that detail up because it made him feel good. A little cocky, even. Leonellus nodded again, with amusement in his eyes this time. “Well! She told me exactly what I needed to hear.” The Prince beamed and kneeled in front of him. Leonellus leaned forward and told him to not do that. When he acted like he had power over him, the slave grew tremendously uncomfortable. “Let me, please. I need to do this properly.” he insisted. “She said that it was important for you to understand that I see you as the person you always were but very few allowed you to be. And I finally got you what you truly needed that, hopefully, will be a symbol of my respect for your honor and...” Ahkmenrah licked his lips and nodded at himself. He could do this. “And my _love_ for you, Leonellus.”

The slave closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to still his heart at the confession. He held his own hands tightly over his lap to keep them from trembling.

“And...” the Prince babbled. “And I...” This was the very first time he tried to do something like this. “And I want to give you this.” He slipped his hands under the bed and took the pair of sandals that he asked to be made a few moments ago. He must be the only person in that kingdom to get anything crafted in such a little time. “So you can guide your own steps and stand among us, with the right of being looked at like a free man.” He wasn't. _Not really_. Ahkmenrah couldn't abolish slavery over night. There wasn't a ritual to release slaves in Egypt like there was in Rome. But he could give him some rights and the promise of a better life. Something he would fulfill in the future. “Can I...?” he gestured towards his bare feet and Leonellus nodded, looking happy. Looking _young_. Ahkmenrah smiled back at him doubtful yet eager before he placed one of his feet over his lap, cleaning it with his own clothes before he tied the sandal carefully around his ankle. Perhaps those were a little big on him. Maybe his fingers were trembling a bit too much and he didn't tie it properly. “This is a bit like _Rhodopis_ ' story[5], isn't it?” he chuckled nervously. “You ever heard it, Leonellus?”

He did. Kyrillos shared it with him when he was nothing but a child. He often asked for that tale before going to bed, because it gave him hope to achieve something _better_. The girl was a slave very much like he was and maybe he wanted someone to save him from that life. “ _They tell the fabulous story that, when she was bathing, an eagle snatched one of her sandals from her maid and carried it to Memphis_.” That was the Greek name for Men-Nefer, where they currently were. Leonellus never expected to visit such beautiful land. Ahkmenrah looked up at him with adoring eyes as he recited the story. “ _and while the king was administering justice in the open air, the eagle, when it arrived above his head, flung the sandal into his lap;_ ” No eagle carried him to Egypt, it was just a merchant. But his life now seemed to be a tale, for it was too beautiful to be true. “ _and the king, stirred both by the beautiful shape of the sandal and by the strangeness of the occurrence, sent men in all directions into the country in quest of the woman who wore the sandal;_ ” In their case, he first found the slave and then the sandal. “ _and when she was found in the city of Naucratis, she was brought up to Memphis, became the wife of the king_ [6] _._ ” He would never marry Ahkmenrah, but he felt satisfied. He told him that he loved him. How could he ask for more?

“Exactly...” he nodded, finally tying the other sandal. The Prince looked up at him and caressed his smooth and pale shins with his palms before he bowed his head forward and kissed the bump on his right knee. “Now, I don't expect you to feel... the same for me, but” he breathed. “But maybe with time... Perhaps...?”

Leonellus couldn't let him believe such nonsense. How couldn't he love him when he was kind, genuine and sweet? It was his time to soothe him. He ran a hand through his messy hair and that was enough to make him look up at him once again. “I love you.” Ahkmenrah captured his hand and squeezed it tightly. “I love you even if I was never blessed by the Goddesses of Love. You are a man worth respect and devotion. Not even I could resist the temptation to embrace such beautiful feeling when you showed me how it would be like to live as the master of my own life.” The red slave spoke with honesty when he promised: “I'll love you until my very last day. And then I'll love you through the night.”

“Leonellus...” He was always so eloquent, even in a foreing language. He was gifted with a talent that Ahkmenrah admired. He pressed tender and loving kisses as against his hand: over his knuckles and wrist. Then he nuzzled the back of it with the tip of his nose and regained the courage to ask something that was denied to him, before. “Can I kiss you?”

This time it was different. Back in his father's tomb, Leonellus still didn't know him enough. That other day in his bedroom, Leonellus was still scared this could be a pastime, for him. But now... Now he accepted what he felt and how desperately wanted the Prince's love and attention. And he _had_ it. He only had to let himself enjoy it. “ _Yes_.”

“Oh, thank you, Gods.” he sighed, as his wish was finally granted. Ahkmenrah raised himself up, digging one knee over the mattress of his bed, by Leonellus thigh. He cupped his face and his fingers curled behind of his ears before he kissed his lips with very little skill. Since the slave's nose was pressing tightly against his cheek, he had to tilt his chin forward, making the angle uncomfortable for both. A memorable first kiss, just not for the right reasons.

Leonellus snickered and leaned back. No one ever kissed him like that. All those who craved him had way more experience than he did.

Ahkmenrah blushed with the shame that came with his lack knowledge. “What?” he blinked. He looked at him nervously, from his eyes to his lips. “Have I done something wrong?” The Prince asked.

“There's no wrong way to do this.” he replied, brushing his fingers over his golden wesekh. “But I can show you one that might like even more.” Leonellus suggested. The curiosity and eagerness in the Prince gave him an answer for a question he didn't make. He moved his hand towards the back of his head and tilted his head to the side. The second kiss was way smoother and slower, involving lips and not only pushing mouth against mouth.

Leonellus never enjoyed being kissed before. He found it even more intimate than sex and highly disturbing. This time it made his stomach burn. Ahkmenrah tried to mimick everything that he did, caressing his way down to his shoulders, his arms, until he finally left his hands over his waist, leaning his body more and more against his until the Roman laid over his back. Then Ahkmenrah was desperate to show him what he just learned, kissing him back and pressing his thumbs against his narrow hips. Still, Leonellus had to breathe so he arched his back and tilted his head, to break the kiss. The Prince gasped with moist lips and those quickly found home in his neck, kissing his pulse.

With that lovely feeling, he licked his lips and asked the very obvious question: “Where do we build our love? I have nothing.” Their relationship would be uneven for he didn't have wealth or access to it. Nor a kingdom, _of course_.

But that was not what Ahkmenrah wanted from him. His loyalty and love could compete and win against gold and land. “Here,” he touched his chest, his _heart_. “they cannot take it away from you. The testimony of your worth and the evidence of your devotion.” And that was exactly what he wanted and what they failed to give to him until he met the red slave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 A sistrum is a musical instrument of the percussion family, chiefly associated with ancient Egypt. It consists of a handle and a U-shaped metal frame, made of brass or bronze and between 30 and 76 cm in width. When shaken the small rings or loops of thin metal on its movable crossbars produce a sound that can be from a soft clank to a loud jangling. Its name in the ancient Egyptian language was sekhem (sḫm) and sesheshet (sššt). Source: Wikipedia
> 
> 2 In ancient Egyptian religion, Menat was a name of the goddess Hathor, and of a type of artifact closely associated with her. Part of the menat was a plate called an aegis (Greek for "shield"), worn on the chest, to which strands of beaded strings were attached. The other ends of the strings were tied to a counterweight which dangled on the wearer's back. The aegis was often made of faience, but other materials as varied as leather and bronze were also used. It was often inscribed or bore depictions of deities associated with Hathor. Worn by women, it was expected to foster fruitfulness and good health, while among men it signified virility. Source: Wikipedia
> 
> 3 Ancient Egyptian culture was closely tied to the Nile River, and it appears their New Year corresponded with its annual flood. The Egyptian New Year was predicted when Sirius—the brightest star in the night sky—first became visible after a 70-day absence, which typically occurred in mid-July just before the annual inundation of the Nile River, which helped ensure that farmlands remained fertile for the coming year. Egyptians celebrated this new beginning with a festival known as Wepet Renpet, which means “opening of the year.” The New Year was seen as a time of rebirth and rejuvenation, and it was honoured with feasts and special religious rites. Source: Ancient-Origins.Net
> 
> 4 During the early part of Egyptian history, Khonsu seems to have been considered to be a violent and dangerous god. He appears in the “Cannibal hymn” (part of the Pyramid Texts) as a blood-thirsty deity who helps the deceased king to catch and eat the other gods and the Coffin Texts describe him as “Khonsu who lives on hearts”. Yet, by the New Kingdom he was worshipped primarily as the gentle and compassionate son of Amun and Mut. Source: AncientEgyptOnline.co.uk
> 
> 5 "Rhodopis" is an ancient tale about a Greek slave girl who marries the king of Egypt. The story was first recorded by the Greek historian Strabo in the late first century BC or early first century AD and is considered the earliest known variant of the "Cinderella" story. Source: Wikipedia
> 
> 6 Source: Rhodopis from Geographica: Book 17, 33 by Strabo.


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But that wasn't happiness. Not like this. It was only comfort and the certainty that he wasn't alone. Then, he grew up and he wasn't happy, either. He was calm. Collected. With the lingering hope that came from waiting for something greater to arrive. With the hope that came from wishing for freedom. So it the end, it was not happiness at all. It was only that, the moments before something truly good happening to him. Now... He felt unique. He felt like had a place. Like he was finally someone. No one could ever fall in love with an object, right? And an objects couldn't love in return, could they? He must have an identity, therefore. Finally. “You smile and the Sun rises just for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might take a little break and update the next chapter in two weeks.  
> We'll see! Thanks for reading! :D

“I don't think either of you will outlive my son,” Pharaoh breathed heavily. He no longer could leave his bed. That sadness was eating him alive, consuming him from the very inside. Not only his mind was weak and foggy but his body was also unable to bear its weight anymore. “but you will outlive me. You must listen to me.”

This was the most conscious Kawab has seen Pharaoh since Shepseheret's death. He briefly looked at Priest Didia from the corner of his eyes. The man was honorable and swore to keep the secret of Pharaoh's sickness. Kawab allowed him to stay because he _trusted_ him and from Merenkahre's actions, he could easily deduce that so he did.

“We are, Pharaoh.” Kawab answered.

“The day my son dies,” to pronounce those words brought him a terrible sense of misery. To remember that his son wouldn't live forever and that he fathered just a living boy would always be an open wound. If it was up to him, his son would _never_ go through any pain, illness or trouble. He would guard him as much as he did when he was nothing but a baby. Perhaps that's why when he was born, he made sure that he would grant him eternal life after Anubis' judgment. A direct passage to Aaru, where only the ones who loved him would be allowed to be by his side. “he _must_ be buried with the tablet.”

Kawab frowned slightly. “Khonsu's tablet?” He remembered, still, the night Ahkmenrah was born. Pharaoh's first present for his new heir was an odd tablet no one really knew much about. It was safely kept in the Prince's chambers, as decoration. As a token of his father's love.

Pharaoh nodded briefly. “Forged in his temple, at midnight. I prayed to him, begged for him to guard my son through the eternal night.” And the light smile that appeared over Pharaoh's lips gave away that the Traveler found his offer worth accepting. “He bathed the tablet with his light, allowing my son to walk into Aaru like a _nobleman_.”

Priest Didia caressed his chin, thoughtful. “Is the tablet a gate by itself?”

“No.” Pharaoh denied, this time. “The tablet is the key. The gate is hidding in Saqqara.”

“Wait a moment,” Kawab interrupted him. “Are you telling me that there's a gate in Saqqara that takes you _directly_ to Aaru?” After the confirmation, he needed a second to think about it. “That's...” the Vizier huffed. “That's very _tempting_.” If anyone knew about that, many would try to steal the tablet and find the gate. There would be no need to be fair or kind if anything could be forgiven just like that.

“That's why I trust both of you with this secret. It's your obligation to find those who are worth of respect and honor before your death and pass the secret to them.” Both Kawab and Priest Didia were rather old, and they surely wouldn't live more than a boy that was currently nineteen. Or at least, they _shouldn't_.

“How is it supposed to be done?” Kawab insisted. “We will need instructions.”

“The tablet and gate are to be taken to the Valley of the Kings, to his tomb. Then, the one responsible needs to put the tablet over the gate and it shall open. It can only be opened _once_. Then the tablet will rust and fuse into the gate, locking it forever.” It did sound like a tale. Like something only the Gods could create.

“They must push his sarcophagus past the gate or only this body?” Priest Didia asked.

“Either will suffice, but I want my son to walk into Aaru like Pharaoh.” That implied wealth and honor. They will have to keep the sarcaphagus and cover the tomb in gold, like any other Pharaoh before him.

There's no other way to secure his passing to Aaru than a direct gate towards _paradise_.

Not that Ahkmenrah could currently think about a happier place to be than by Leonellus' side. Any room in that palace was the perfect picture of happiness if the Roman boy was there with him. The new year brought him the sweetest confession and his first kisses. All of them rather clumsy and funny, but those made Leonellus chuckle and smile at him, so the Prince didn't mind being seen as innocent or pure. They had time on their side and Leonellus could become his teacher. And if he had to be a little arrogant, he would say that during that week, he learned _a lot_. They kissed more and more each time. Leonellus even put his hands over his waist and legs and encouraged him to squeeze and grab the thin layer of meat over his bones. That is, of course, when they were alone. If there was anyone else around them that could see them or gossip, Leonellus kept himself overly proper, butchering his own desire for safety.

But it wasn't only lust. Leonellus was his friend. The best one he _ever_ had. Perhaps the only one, too. He could tell him _anything_ and that was relieving and made him feel like he wouldn't be alone as long as he had him. They could talk and entertain each other. No one ever said that Leonellus had to leave, because he was also his Fan-Bearer and he was supposed to be with him _all day long_. Now more than ever. At that very moment, he didn't wish to be fanned, so as soon as he stood up, Leonellus stopped and looked at him. Ahkmenrah smiled in that way that the slave loved, with honesty and kindness. Leonellus smiled back almost without noticing.

“I like your sandals, Leonellus.” the Prince joked.

Those were his most precious possession. Leonellus looked down at his feet and swayed his weight from the balls of his feet to the heels and forward. They fit much better now that he tied them himself.

“Those were a gift.” the slave replied.

“Were they?” he faked surprise, raising his eyebrows. His hand captured the flabellum right on top of his. Ahkmenrah's pinky touched Leonellus' thumb. The slave bit his lower lip, amused. “I wonder who was that incredible man responsible for such beautiful present...”

“Oh, but who said it was a man?” the redhead tilted his head.

“Don't be mean.” Ahkmenrah complained as he took a step around the flabellum. Leonellus took another to keep the original distance. “We agreed that you wouldn't call me a child ever again. Because if I am... then so are you!” Leonellus was only a year older than he was. That was _nothing_.

The Roman kept smiling. He nodded and looked down. As soon as the young heir started to walk around the flabellum, so he did, to play with him. “I was not going to say that.” he finally spoke, looking up. “He is more than a man, to me.”

Ahkmenrah blinked and parted his lips. Leonellus shook his head and shrugged with one shoulder. There was no need to say anything about it. To him, Ahkmenrah was the life he always wanted to have. The sense of freedom. To finally have an identity so he could be seen, understood and yes, _loved_. He was what Leonellus was kept from having his whole life.

But he refused to make this something sad. He knew well it wouldn't last long and his only wish was to make the Prince as happy as he could be. “But you know what I like best about wearing sandals?” Ahkmenrah thought he had an idea but he denied. “I can run properly once again.”

And that, he didn't expect it. Ahkmenrah blinked when Leonellus released the flabellum and let him hold it before he stepped back, descending the stairs while keeping his eyes on the Prince. He remembered how his mother died and he couldn't help but warn him, not wanting him to suffer the same fate as she did. To not worry him any further, the slave stopped and smiled at him. “Want to see who's faster? Mercury has nothing on me.”

“What do you mean?” Ahkmenrah frowned, turning to leave the flabellum over the throne.

And because Leonellus felt young after only two decades of nothing but misfortune, he grinned: “ _Catch me_.”

The slave turned around before the Prince had the time to accept the challenge. He hopped off the stairs and dashed out of the throne room. A happy little smile appeared over Ahkmenrah's lips and hurried after Leonellus who was already way ahead him. The Prince didn't quite expect him to be so fast. The red slave was scrawny and no matter how much he told him to eat more, he was still uncomfortable with the idea of deciding how much he should eat. He was used to small portions and to not even be able to finish his meal due to new orders or wanting to share it with the Goddess Libertas. Those slender thighs of his were not very strong but surely helped him to leave the Prince way behind, who panted and tried to call him name, hoping he would slow down.

But Leonellus didn't. At least not under the Prince's command. When he turned around and saw the guards there, standing in front of the Ahkmenrah's chamber, his smile fell from his lips and started to slow down. He composed himself and brushed his clothes, clearing his throat. He had enough embracing his feelings in private but sometimes it felt a little like he could have more. He could _always_ have more. But he felt satisfied.

The guards barely looked at him but Ahkmenrah sprited as he saw Leonellus being unusually slow compared to how fast he just ran away from him. The slave snickered as the Prince bumped against him. Not having enough with catching him, he wrapped his forearms tightly around his stomach and raised him up with victory. Leonellus didn't want to smile so wide in an open corridor. It could bring him trouble, but he was unable to stop because happiness oozed from his features. He was happy like he has never been before.

Ahkmenrah buried his face in the crook of Leonellus neck before he left him over ground again. The Roman shrugged his shoulder and pointed at the guards with his head. He understood perfectly his request and released him. After they walked towards his room, Ahkmenrah opened the door before he bowed dramatically. Leonellus snorted and slipped inside of the chambers. As soon as the Prince closed the door after him, he picked him up once again. This time he dug his fingers over the back over his legs and used the strength of his arms. Leonellus rolled his eyes but grinned, bearing a good part of his weight over the Prince's shoulders. Now, the young heir was not spectacularly strong, but once again, the slave was not much, either in height or weight. After all, Kahmunrah only needed one hand to throw him to the floor.

“How can you run so fast?” Ahkmenrah allowed the both of them to fall over the bed. It wasn't a coincidence that he landed on top of the redhead.

“A necessity.” Leonellus replied and brushed the hairline of the Prince with his thumb before he ran his fingers through his hair. He dragged his smooth nails over his scalp and he closed his eyes, humming with delight. “One of my earliest memories is running.”

“Before being a slave?” he asked, laying properly on top of him. Leonellus moved his hand from his hair to his back, smoothing his cape.

“I think so.” the other nodded, briefly. “I don't remember who I was running from. Or if there was anyone after me at all.” When Leonellus said he didn't remember his parents or his life before slavery, he didn't lie. He merely couldn't remember the tragedy before the injustice anymore. A boy could run away from many things, but it was his own mind who told him to block all those years so he could keep living. To open certain doors could bring a terrible sense of despair. “To Urbinia, I was _always_ late.” That's why he got whipped so many times. “So I had to run all day long.” And he was not fond of those years, but he still snorted and shook his head. Would she have another slave she could abuse and torture? He was quite sure of that. “When I was a child, I didn't mind. I had fun.” For some reason, he felt safe because as bad as the life of a slave was, there, in that domus, he had Kyrillos. No tragedy was too unbearable if the Greek was there to comfort him and hold him like he was his own father. “But then I turned twelve and it was clear they didn't want me anymore.”

Ahkmenrah frowned and raised his head a bit. “Why not?”

“Slaves are either entertaining or useful. When you are little, they treat you like...” he licked his lips. “Let's say Idu and me, as a boy, had plenty in common.” Those kids were not proper humans to Romans. They just keep them around for their amusement. A slave kid or a little animal, to them they were the very same thing. “And then, a slave grows and they become useful. They find a task for them. But I didn't have one. Not until I turned sixteen and Kyrillos died.” Ahkmenrah kissed his cheek because he knew how important he was to him. He was speaking too much and yet, he couldn't stop. “So... During those four years...” he smiled bitterly and sighed. “Urbinia told me to take a walk each night.” She was cruel. She had to be if she asked such a young boy to do that. “Rome at night is...” he shook his head. “It's not like your land. _At all_.”

“How is it?” Ahkmenrah asked.

“ _Dangerous_. Very dangerous. Even more for someone like me.” A teenage slave. He was the easiest victim someone could find in those dark and narrow streets. “Some people go out at night to just... Enjoy violence. No one ever leaves their home once it's dark if they can avoid it. And if they do, they usually bring protection.” And he had no means to obtain that. He didn't want to get killed for someone's entertainment and for his body to be thrown to the sewers. “I _had_ to outrun them.” It was either that or dying. “She always got so mad when I came back.”

“I hate her.” the Prince claimed. “Oh, Isis. I hate her. She will rot, Leonellus. Trust my word, she will pay for everything she ever did.” he insisted as he cupped his face.

“I'm not mad at her.” Leonellus shook his head. “They didn't want me there and I assume that they couldn't find anyone that wanted to buy me.” To him, it wasn't _strange_ or more offensive than a simple insult.

“How can you not be mad at someone who tried to get you killed?” Ahkmenrah frowned. “Your life is the treasure you must take care of. And if you ran, it must be because you didn't want to die.”

“How can you be so sure?” he replied. “The only thing I didn't want was to not die as a slave. Other than that, I didn't mind much when it happened.” But once again, he wanted in death the dignity he didn't have during life.

“Don't say that.” he cut him right away. “Don't you ever say that. You are alive and that, by itself, is beautiful. We must enjoy our days as much as possible.”

Leonellus scratched his neck and didn't know how to answer that. So he decided to talk about something else. “What's _your_ earliest memory?”

Ahkmenrah sighed and folded his arm, resting his elbow close to Leonellus' face. Then, he supported his head over the palm of his hand, pursing his lips, trying to find one of the very first memories he had. After a small silence, he began: “I don't think I remember something precisely, but I admired my brother.” he snickered. He loved Kahmunrah still, but he learned, after these years, that his brother had little that was worth of admiration other than his children.

“Why?” it was Leonellus' turn to frown.

“I know, I know!” the Prince smiled. “He is not very... _kind_. But he is my brother. My older brother, I think it's only normal to admire your older siblings growing up.” Leonellus didn't remember if he had siblings. He doubted it, but he couldn't tell for sure. “He was never happy. He was always angry and bitter. Other times, he was _so_ sad. At first I didn't know why, and to this day, I don't know the whole story...” he huffed. “But Kahmunrah loved his mother a lot, Leonellus. I'm sure about that.” He even named his first daughter after her. She was still in the back of his mind. “And when my father married my mother after she died, he felt... He didn't like it.” And then he pressed his lips. “I'm not ignorant to the fact that my father favored me over my brother since I was born. I don't think that's fair, but I'm still unable to confront my father about it.” Maybe he never would, considering that his father was not at his best. He caressed the chain of Leonellus' amulet with the tips of his fingers. “It's my wish to give my brother the place I think he deserves. He is clever and I firmly believe that he can be kind if he feels like he is no longer the unwanted member of this family.” The day Kawab dies, Ahkmenrah will name Kahmunrah as his Vizier. And both of them will take care of the land of their father. Like _brothers_ , as they were.

Leonellus looked at him and caressed his cheek. Ahkmenrah turned his head and kissed the palm of his hand.

“It surprises me how good men can take awful decisions and become monsters to those they once loved.” he muttered against his skin. “My father is the greatest man I've ever met. But to Kahmunrah, he is only careless and cruel. Surprising how different we can be seen through others' eyes, don't you think?”

“Sometimes it's complicated to do the right thing.” he brushed his lips with his thumb. Then he touched the curve of his chin and Ahkmenrah bowed his head, giving him another kiss, this one over his knuckles. “Other times there's nothing we can do to escape judgment. If there's someone out there who wants to see you as a vicious creature, there's nothing good enough for them to change their minds. While you feel like you've done the right thing, then that's all you should worry about.”

“What if I become selfish?” he whispered. “What if power makes me cruel? What if I act like my father?”

“You are capable of seeing your father's mistake. If you are ever to push someone to the side, you'll remember how your brother felt after his mother died.” Leonellus cupped his chin, so he would look at him. “You are good. You are the kindest man I've ever met.” Ahkmenrah smiled briefly. “Surround yourself of good people. Advisors that will care about your kingdom. Offer them what they desperately want. You have to look after them. If you could be kind to me, you can be kind to _anyone_.”

“It's not _exceptional_ for me to love you, Leonellus.”

“It is.” the redhead replied. “I'm a slave, from another land.” A potential enemy in the future. “You had no obligation to offer me any sort of respect and you did.” Leonellus kissed his forehead. “Your greatness will be remembered. They will write poems about you. They will celebrate the day you were born as the best omen this country could ever be blessed with.” Ahkmenrah wrapped his arms around him. “A sweet boy will make a fair ruler. I don't have any doubt about that.”

“Stay with me when that happens.” Ahkmenrah mumbled. “Keep me grounded. Hold my hand when I feel lost. Comfort me when I fail. The Gods know I will need you.”

“ _Always_.” Leonellus promised. He will be by his side until his life is finally taken away from him.

*** * ***

Ahkmenrah said that it was far too warm for him to focus. That it was _mandatory_ for Leonellus to be there, fanning him. Kawab was far from happy about the fact that a Roman would be witnessing the first meeting between the future Pharaoh and his advisors. He accepted only because the Prince refused to leave his room, otherwise, pretending to faint in the least credible way possible.

“I'm nervous.” the Prince confessed, never doubtful or scared of showing how insecure he felt about the idea of having more and more power each time.

“You don't have to be.” Leonellus shook his head. He let the flabellum rest over his shoulder and reached to hold the Prince's hands. He squeezed them warmly. Ahkmenrah closed his eyes and sighed deeply. His thumb moved over the slave's knuckles, desperately seeking for some comfort and validation. “You know what your people want, don't you?”

The Prince huffed and shook his head energetically. “I don't! How am I supposed to know? I don't talk to them, Leonellus!” He didn't leave the palace often. What he knew was mostly what he has been told. His eyes didn't get to see much beyond his royal house and the temple of Hathor, Ptah or Sekhmet.

“Then maybe you should try to find out.” Leonellus shrugged. Back in Rome, they had the tribunus plebis[1], as a way to make sure to look after the rights and benefits of the citizens of Rome. They were protected by the law. Ahkmenrah could try to do something similar to do that. Leonellus doubted it could be a bad idea. “If you want to give them a voice, you have to listen to them first.”

Ahkmenrah tilted his head back, with his eyes closed. As the son of Pharaoh, he had power, but not the power to do _anything_ that he wanted. Not if it had consequences over the whole realm. He just wanted to be good. He wanted to be fair, so they could feel like he was looking after them all, no matter how they were or what they had.

“But don't stress yourself with that.” Leonellus added when he saw that he wasn't helping much. “You are young, your father still lives.” Even if that wouldn't last for much longer. “Don't rush it. Take the proper time to do things. Don't feel overwhelmed. No one is asking anything from you over night.” Leonellus leaned forward and kissed Ahkmenrah's neck. “You can do this. You'll learn and grow as a person and as a ruler.” He squeezed his hands again. “I'll be with you.” Ahkmenrah looked at him with a small pout. The red slave kissed his lips and smiled briefly. “ _Come on_.” he whispered, encouragingly.

The Prince sighed one last time and returned the kiss before he stepped back. He brushed his clothes and looked at Leonellus. He nodded, letting him know that he looked good. That he looked _regal_. Then he walked out of the room and Leonellus followed him in silence.

The slave was looked at like he didn't belong there. But that was hardly the first time he ended up in that kind of situation. Not that he ever attended a meeting with anyone as important as Ahkmenrah, but he was usually looked like his presence was unfitting. And this time he understood that it was. That's why he merely idly fanned the Prince and forced himself to not listen to _anything_ they spoke about. He only heard a couple of things at the beginning, when he was too nervous to be distracted,

Ahkmenrah was not doing any better than him. He was tense and his back barely touched his seat anymore. At some point, Kawab had to repeat some important information that he didn't manage to retain. When the Prince was allowed to go, his body was still visibly knotted and his spirits were being dragged all over the floor of the palace.

As Leonellus turned to close the door of his chambers, Ahkmenrah threw himself over the bed. He didn't even bother to remove his cape or his sandals. Face down, not moving or saying anything, it was clear that he was not especially proud of his what he did or how he behaved. They had to be blind to ignore the fact that their young heir was intimidated by the situation and while Leonellus knew it was unwise to allow others to know that much about your own emotions, he didn't think much more could be asked from someone of their age. He would have been just as scared. The slave sat down over the bed and leaned over him. He pressed his lips against his shoulder and caressed his arm.

“I did _terrible_.” the Prince's voice was muffled against the pillows.

“It was not so bad.” It was understandable. It would be very strange that he could have dealt with the situation without any sort of struggle. “You'll learn.”

Ahkmenrah turned his head slightly and allowed Leonellus to keep trying to cheer him up.

The slave got closer to him, until his chest rested over his back. He kissed his cheek, next and then his temple. A small smile appeared over the Prince's lips. “Follow Kawab's instructions and you'll never have to fear for anything.” While the Vizier clearly disliked him, Leonellus could tell that he was a man with intregity. That he couldn't be corrupted or moved by mundane things such as fear or greed. It's the best person Ahkmenrah could have by his side.

“I guess...” he mumbled before he began to turn to lay on his back. Leonellus gave him enough room to do so. “I still think I would feel better if I got distracted... If there was something to keep me from thinking...” he began, avoiding to look at Leonellus' green eyes, playing with his scarab. “I don't know...”

The slave bit his lower lip. He was painfully obvious, wasn't he? He shook his head and snickered. “What would that be?”

“Maybe some kissing. That could work. It would please me.” he cleared his throat.

“That would please _His Majesty_?” Leonellus raised his eyebrows, jokingly. Ahkmenrah furrowed his nose and blushed slightly.

“Don't call me that before getting in bed with me!” Ahkmenrah huffed, visibly mortified.

“Because you like it?” the slave raised his chin, feeling like he had the upper hand in that matter. He wasn't blind to the Prince's desires. He obtained pleasure from knowing he had power over him. That he could indulge in the fantasy of Leonellus wanting to serve him, in as many ways as possible. And it was not like the Roman wanted to pretend that he didn't, either. While he never felt attracted to anyone back home and saw sex and pleasure as something dull and often degrading for him... He wanted it with the Prince. He seeked to be close to him. To get to touch him and be touched exchange even if not much happened during that first week of the new year.

“Because you use it to make fun of me.” Ahkmenrah pocked his chest.

“A slave making fun of Pharaoh?” Leonellus licked his lips, trying to hide his smile. He never felt comfortable enough to joke. He didn't even think he had a proper sense of humor. He never made anyone laugh _willingly_. “He should have him whipped, then.”

“Not funny!” he interrupted him right away, grabbing his waist tightly. “I would never hurt you.” And he wanted Leonellus to have that absolutely clear. If Leonellus ever betrayed him or stopped loving him, then Ahkmenrah would accept it. Forgive him even if life would no longer be the same. At least, he was convinced that he would. While the Prince could have obsecure thoughts and voice them here and there, he absolutely despised violence. It was his very last option for any sort of problem. “And I wouldn't let others hurt you either.”

The slave caressed his cheek with the back of his fingers before he reduced the distance between their lips. He didn't think there was need to talk any further. He cupped the back of his neck and kissed his lips.

Ahkmerah didn't have much patience so he immediatelly got him closer to his body, until the amulet of Khepri was pressing tightly between their bodies. When Leonellus broke the kiss to remove it, the Prince stopped him. “No.” he shook his head. “It has to protect you at any moment.” Now more than ever that the night was starting.

Leonellus nodded and turned it around, letting the scarab rest between his shoulder blades. Ahkmenrah pullled him forward again and they resumed kissing. And this time was unlike the other times they kissed during that week. Those were usually kisses that brought each other _happiness_. The Prince, eager as he was, didn't forget the fact that Leonellus rejected him before and how he told him his experience with sex through Galeatus. The last thing he wanted was to disgust the slave. To scare him. To remind him that while his surrounding was brand new, his situation didn't change completely. Right now, it was the Roman who pressed his lips more against his, slidding his tongue past the Prince's mouth, aiming to touch him. His hands massaged his shoulders and rubbed his chest against his; his heart was speeding up.

Ahkmenrah's hands caressed his waist and ended up resting over his lower back, curling his fingers slightly, scared that he would touch too much. It was the slave who grabbed his wrists and moved his hands lower, until both palms were set over his ass. He took that moment of excitement and how Ahkmenrah began to nibble his lips and dig his fingers over his buttocks to slid one of his legs between the Prince's.

That provided the slave an instant reaction from Ahkmenrah. He grabbed Leonellus by the waist again and forced him to move back, bearing his weight over his knees. The redhead quickly broke the kiss and looked at him, a little startled. “What? What is it?” He crossed a line? Oh, Gods, he was enjoying it so much that he didn't think that maybe the Prince was not quite ready for more. He always looked so eager and willing... And yes, visibly attracted to him.

Ahkmenrah pressed his lips into a very thin line and bowed his head forward. His face was warm and red as he tried to hide it on Leonellus' neck. The slave blinked and tried to look down at him. It was rather easy to notice that he was raising his legs a bit, folding his knees. His hands were pulling his skirts, hoping to conceal the _swelling_.

Clearly, everything worked _properly_. Babi must have blessed him through Idu, even if the little monkey was now long gone. Leonellus bit the corner of his lower lip and grinned slightly. He pushed him away because he didn't want him to feel he had an erection? That was the main goal the Roman boy currently had. But the Prince was visibly mortified, breathing heavily and not daring to say a word.

“It's okay... It's alright.” Leonellus whispered sweetly against Ahkmenrah's temple. “I know you. You know me.” The consent was explicit in everything that Leonellus did and how he touched him. “I want it.” But he still said it. Because he could. For all the times he couldn't say no, now he wanted to say _yes_. “I love you and I desire you.” And that made his heart become a little louder and more nervous. His stomach even twisted, offering more warmth to his crotch and chest. Ahkmenrah was far from being the only one that was hard. “Don't be shy.” Leonellus brushed the tip of his long nose over the shell of the Prince and felt him take a deep and shaky breath.

“I...” Ahkmenrah swallowed thickly. “I want...” he tried.

“Yes?” he encouraged him to keep talking, peppering kisses over his hair and temple.

“I want to see you naked.” For some reason those words sounded far too demanding to the Prince, so he rushed to change the order for a request: “Can I see you naked?”

Leonellus expected him to ask for way more. But now that he had time to think about it, he doubted that he ever lost all of his clothes while having sex before. It was always rushed and meaningless. No one took the time to undress him, nor they wanted to see his scarred back or bony hips.

“Of course.” he smiled and caressed his cheek, tenderly. Leonellus sat down over his ankles after he removed his sandals. He left them so carefully over the ground, because they were a treasure to him. Ahkmenrah did the same, but discarding his own to the side. He licked his lips as the red slave undid the sash around his waist. Unable to deal with the expectation the slave was building, the Prince slid his cape down his arms and also let it fall over the ground. Since his necklace was way larger than Leonellus' and the chest piece looked like it would end up being in the way, he took it off as well, keeping the bracelets on his arms. Then he leaned forward, sitting up slightly and caressed Leonellus' thighs and knees as the slave pushed his tunic up, revealing more and more pale skin. The Roman was mindful with the amulet as he finally got the tunic past his head. He dropped it over the pile of clothes that was gathering by the bed. Leonellus brushed his red hair properly and looked at the Prince.

Ahkmenrah licked his lips after a deep breath. This was not the first time he saw him naked. It was hard to forget that time when Leonellus bathed in the Nile. And let's say that the Prince has tried to see glimpses of his bare body when Leonellus undressed when his clothes were too dirty and he had to wash them. But now it was different. He was close to him, _touching_ him. His palms were so warm and smooth that they almost ticked the slave when he stroked the curve of his waist, going towards his rib cage. Leonellus bowed his head forward and kissed Ahkmenrah's shoulder as the Prince continued to caress his chest and squeeze his shoulders, enjoying his body flawed as it was. During a very brief moment, Ahkmenrah's fingers curled around Leonellus' neck. He felt something _strange_. Not fear, far from that. Something warm and that tingled his spine, making him tilt his head back and sigh with complete trust. The Prince kissed him before he could consider doing anything more or something he didn't know how to offer in a pleasurable way yet.

The kiss was moist and perhaps a little messy. Ahkmenrah still had to learn plenty about grace, but Leonellus wouldn't want him in any other way. No one kissed him like that. No one ever showed their love and desire for him. How could he find any fault in what he did? He only wanted to offer more pleasure as he was receiving.

“Do you know what to do next?” the red slave asked between kisses and swollen lips.

“I know what I _want_ to do.” Ahkmenrah confessed.

“Go for it.” Leonellus nodded before he kissed him back.

The Prince wrapped his arms around him and turned their positions around, allowing Leonellus to lay over the bed, comfortably craddled by the pillows. He kissed him. He kissed him more and more each time and now he felt like he was the one learning. His tongue touched his own and the roof of his mouth. He bit his lips and pulled the lower one, making him dig his fingertips over his arms. When Ahkmenrah started to suck and nibble his neck and collarbones, Leonellus even curled his toes and rolled his eyes back, becoming harder and far warmer. His hips rose from the bed, seeking some friction, but Ahkmenrah pushed them back down as his lips moved lower, towards his chest. Funny how before he bit on his left nipple Leonellus thought he had a vague idea on how to do this. _No_. This was something _new_. While he had some experience, this was so unlike everything he ever did before. It felt like a complete different thing. Like this was sex, _for real_ , and what happened before was... something else. Something else he didn't quite know the name of.

Not that he could meditate much about _terminologies_ , at the moment. The reaction was imminent: he pulled onto his hair, lightly, and moaned. It felt good. Was it supposed to feel _this_ good? Oh, then that changed everything! He wanted it if it was supposed to be like this! And it was not that Ahkmenrah knew much about sex himself, but he had plenty of time to think about this. Before he met Leonellus and _after_. He knew what he wanted to do; what he wanted to try. Maybe he didn't know how to do things _properly_ , but unlike the slave, he felt curious about sex for the last few years. He wanted and craved it. And when he thought at night that he wanted to get his mouth all over Leonellus, he meant it. Now he had the chance and he was going to do so.

*** * ***

Ahkmenrah never saw Leonellus like that and it brought him _pride_.

It was like he was losing his rationality and patience. But nothing would ever compare to the sight of seeing the slave capturing his wrist and moving his right hand towards his mouth. He kissed his fingertips and his knuckles before he licked where finger and finger joined. Ahkmenrah's eyes grew dark. Way darker than usual. Hathor hummed in the back of his mind — _Oh, yes! Let him continue!_ — and Babi encouraged him to lose control — _Flip him over, you know what to do!_ —. He tried to please both of them by slipping a couple of fingers past Leonellus' lips. His green eyes disappeared behind his eyelids as sucked them well, leaving them moist and slippery. Ahkmenrah will ask more of him and his mouth. He felt like Babi would be proud of him if he did so.

Leonellus himself encouraged him to continue, to take things to the next level. He fingered him, keeping his eyes on his face, making sure that he was not hurting him or giving him more than he could bear. It was complicated to focus since the slave refused to be selfish and only obtain pleasure. Leonellus mirrored his same pace with his hand around his cock. It made Ahkmenrah sigh and roll his eyes each time his thumb brushed the head. Maybe he will ask him to do that again, too. _Only that_. He kissed him more and when he felt like there was enough room for a third finger, he gave it to him. Everything was very slow and calm, knowing that neither of them would last if things got more intense.

“Enough, enough.” the Roman breathed, pushing him slightly with a hand on his stomach. Ahkmenrah slipped his fingers out and leaned back as Leonellus shifted over and supported his weight over his knees. He found balance by putting his hands on the wall.

The Prince squeezed his eyes shut for a second, trying not to be overwhelmed by the submission and willingness he was shown with that simple act. Leonellus even breathed a very small _go on_ , that sounded both like he was demanding and pleading at once. He graped the redhead's narrow hips and held him still. He asked the Gods for some restraint, so they both could enjoy this for as much time as possible. When he pushed himself inside of Leonellus, he moaned far from silencing himself. While he was not harsh or too fast, he was clearly loving the feeling of being inside of the older boy because he even made Leonellus move closer to the wall, until his chest touched the beautiful paiting of the papyrus plants. At least he didn't hit his head with the tablet, that was hanging not much higher from where the Prince was pressing the slave against the surface. “Oh, Gods.” Ahkmenrah breathed right against Leonellus's cheek. The slave nuzzled his nose against his cheek as the Prince's hand caressed his flat stomach, wrapping his arms around him, to get some balance to start moving. When Leonellus scratched the wall, he got some point under his nails. But he wasn't scolded. In fact, the Prince didn't notice or even care. He pressed his lips against his shoulder, kissing it as he pushed his hips back and forward. “I love you, I love you.” Ahkmenrah said right against his flesh.

Leonellus believed him. He closed his eyes and the pleasure and happiness reflected over his features. He cupped the back of his neck in the best way he could and told him that he loved him too, with his chest vibrating with each breath he took. Ahkmenrah kissed him, pressing his body even closer to his. It was far from being a perfect first time. It wasn't even planned or remotely organized. They made love in an artless way. As a young man who was still pretty new to the experience and another that finally found pleasure in it. There was nothing more satisfying than that mess of limbs and tongues for either of them; naïve and clumsy as it was.

From now and on, Leonellus would also think about that night as his first time, too.

*** * ***

They couldn't stop kissing even after making love.

Leonellus caressed Ahkmenrah's rib cage before he rested his hand over the curve of his waist. The Prince brushed his tongue against his lower lip and he smiled. This was... This was hardly something that could happen to _him_. If life is giving him something so sweet was because something terrible was about to happen. He should enjoy it as much as possible while it lasts. He pursed his lips and placed a couple of kisses more over his lips before he tilted his head back. Ahkmenrah caressed his face, delighted to see how happy Leonellus looked. He brushed his thumb over his cheekbone and the slave leaned into his hand with a little sigh.

“I love you.” he had to say it again. And the more he said it, the more Leonellus believed it. He was not just a pastime. He was important to Ahkmenrah. The boy was kind and honest. He wouldn't try Leonellus as other masters did back in Rome. He was unlike any other man he ever met. He was _better_.

“This is the happiest I've ever been in my life.” he felt safe sharing that kind of things with him. “Maybe this is the first time I feel happiness.” Leonellus used to think that he was happy as a child. That he was happy when Kyrillos taught him something new or hugged him whenever Urbinia scolded or punished him. But that wasn't happiness. Not like this. It was only comfort and the certainty that he wasn't alone. Then, he grew up and he wasn't happy, either. He was calm. Collected. With the lingering hope that came from waiting for something greater to arrive. With the hope that came from wishing for freedom. So it the end, it was not happiness at all. It was only that, the moments before something truly good happening to him. Now... He felt unique. He felt like had a place. Like he was finally someone. No one could ever fall in love with an object, right? And an objects couldn't love in return, could they? He must have an identity, therefore. _Finally_. “You smile and the Sun rises just for me.” he confessed while smiling tenderly. Leonellus moved closer to him, wrapping his arms around him. “I love you so much, Ahkmenrah.” It would be stupid to resist calling him by his name after having him _inside_ of him. In that bedroom, he didn't have to be more than the man he loved. He would respect him as a Prince when necessary, but while laying there, with their legs tangled and their lips still hungry, he was merely the sweet boy he fell in love with. The very same who only tried to keep him happy and safe since he arrived, never asking anything exchange.

The Prince reacted beautifully. His eyes widened and had a childish glow of pure joy. His lips stretched into a smile before he gasped: “Leonellus!” He kissed his lips, his cheek, his temple, his hair and every single spot that came close to his mouth. He embraced him tightly and heard the slave chuckling against his shoulder. He loved him. Oh, he loved him so much. The Gods will be able to see it and protect Leonellus as much as they protected him. With Vesta's fire and Khonsu's tablet, that bedroom had to become a shrine for their love. If someone ever intrudes, it will be fatal for the both of them.

While being held and with the certainty that he was loved, Leonellus allowed himself to fall asleep on the Prince's chest. It was the very first time the slave slept so soundly. So deeply that he didn't even hear how Kawab cleared his throat the following morning. Neither did the Prince and the Vizier was dreading every single second he had to spend in that room. Of course, he turned his back towards the bed, allowing them to have some decency. When Kawab called the Prince's name and he still didn't wake up, the older man crouched and grabbed Leonellus' sash, turned it into a ball and threw it at Ahkmenrah's face.

 _That_ woke him up.

“Mhmm...?” he boy stirred and turned his head towards Leonellus, who was still sleeping close to him. He hummed happily and kissed his forehead, not even noticing Kawab, at first. He had to clear his throat one last time to get the Prince's eyes on him. Those widened and he rushed to cover both Leonellus' body and his own with the light linen blankets. “Is it morning, already?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, it is _morning_ already.” Kawab rubbed his forehead and had to ask Ptah for some patience. “Get dressed, I want to talk to you outside.” He didn't allow him to complain or give him one of his poorly elaborated excuses.

When he closed the door after him, the Vizier sighed deeply and crossed his arms. He closed his eyes, ignoring the look he was given by the guards. Surely they heard what happened last night, so he didn't have to hide his disappointment. He knew it. As soon as he saw the Roman boy, he knew that something like this could happen. The Prince was alone and found charm in things he needed yet to discover. The boy was around his age, from a land he knew so little about. Now, after telling him a couple of days ago that he was in love with the slave, he finally consumated it. Kawab didn't fear the boy. He feared what Ahkmenrah could want to do to impress him. Their young heir was sweet and naïve and often aimed to please. As Kahmunrah said, he would have to be a very foolish kid to not want to abuse the situation and obtain as many riches as possible from the Prince. And for this land to resemble his home. _That_ , he could not tolerate.

“I apologize, Kawab. I overslept.” Ahkmenrah used a soft voice, closing the door without making any sound. It was clear that his _lover_ was still sleeping. “Was I needed? I'll apologize, we'll come up with some good excuse.” the Prince raised his eyebrows, smiling tentatively.

Kawab raised a hand to ask for his silence. Ahkmenrah closed his lips and looked down, knowing that he was about to get scolded. “You know I'm in the position to tell you that you are not acting accordingly.”

“Regarding what...?” the young man mumbled, playing with his bracelets.

“Regarding the company you keep.” Kawab continued even if Ahkmenrah shook his head. “How long until he speaks through you?”

“Only the Gods are allowed to do that.” he insisted. “Leonellus is not only the one I love, he's also my best friend. He reassures me when I'm nervous and offers me his good judgment. He even says that I should try to obey you as much as possible.” If Leonellus was as manipulative as Kawab insisted that he was, he wouldn't say such things! Leonellus had cried in front of him and confessed very personal things. As Ahkmenrah did with him. They were very close and he trusted him with his life.

“And the Gods have nothing to object?” Kawab snorted, still strict. While he couldn't force the Prince to stop seeing the boy, he surely could let him know what he thought about him.

“Hathor and Babi were with me, last night.” Ahkmenrah puffed his chest. That made him a man. _Completely_. “And in fact, Hathor told me that I should treat Leonellus as an equal. And you know what? I think she might have a point. Leonellus allowed me to see _so much_. The life of a slave is terrible, Kawab! He has been... mistreated his whole life! He is not even a person like you and me to many. That's ridiculous!” Ahkmenrah huffed. “I have decided that as soon as I become Pharaoh, after being crowned and during the very first day of my reign, I will release Leonellus from slavery.”

Kawab looked at him for a couple of seconds and replied: “No. You can't do that.”

“Yes, I can!” Ahkmenrah snapped.

“If you release one slave, all of them will want to be free.” And that would bring chaos to their kingdom. He couldn't change something so crucial because he fell in love.

“Good.” the Prince nodded. “They will value their freedom and be more loyal to us.”

“Are you out of your mind?!” Kawab raised his voice.

“I want to give my people what they want! I want to look after them and I'll do so!” Maybe it was a little bit rushed, but as Leonellus told him, he had time. He didn't have to solve all the problems their land had during the very first year of his reign.

“You are not thinking rationally.” the Vizier denied. He will not let this country collapse. And even less because a spoiled boy wanted to impress his slave. “I refuse to have this conversation with you. Not now, not ever. Enjoy your time with Deshret, do whatever you want _with_ and _to_ him. But the moment it includes the safety of our country, I will step in, Ahkmenrah.”

“Then I'll push you to the side.” Ahkmenrah replied with a heat on his voice that shouldn't be confused with anything other than the sudden frustration he felt by not getting his instant approval. The Prince would never dream to rule without him by his side.

And yet, such words were spoken and Kawab would remember them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Tribunus plebis, rendered in English as tribune of the plebs, tribune of the people or plebeian tribune, was the first office of the Roman state that was open to the plebeians, and was throughout the history of the Republic, the most important check on the power of the Roman Senate and magistrates. These tribunes had the power to convene and preside over the Concilium Plebis (people’s assembly); to summon the senate; to propose legislation; and to intervene on behalf of plebeians in legal matters; but the most significant power was to veto the actions of the consuls and other magistrates, thus protecting the interests of the plebeians as a class. The tribunes of the plebs were sacrosanct, meaning that any assault on their person was prohibited by law. Source: Wikipedia


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You take care of paying him and getting rid of the slave's body.” Kawab briefly looked at Kahmunrah. His eyes were shinning, sinister and eager. The older man didn't feel like he could judge him, this time. The idea of knowing that this would be the last time they heard about the slave brought him peace. Close enough to satisfaction. They weren't so different, anymore. “Right.” he sighed and nodded. “Let me know once it's over. We'll have to comfort the Prince. Make sure he never finds out.” Saying those words out loud should help him realise what he was doing, but guilt never came after they were spoken.  
> After that, Kawab simply left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick warning, the story is going to be a bit more explictic when it comes to violence from this chapter until the end.  
> Also, I might take a couple of weeks to upload the next chapter because I am no longer ahead of what I am posting so... Sorry for making you wait but I honestly can't write any faster!  
> Enjoy!!

So Leonellus would stop asking questions about why Ahkmenrah barely spoke to Kawab, the Prince tried to entertain him as much as possible. He was painfully obvious about it, of course. For the last couple of weeks, he noticed how the Vizier only spoke when it was strictly necessary to the young heir and how Ahkmenrah pouted and looked away, still visibly displeased about something that happened between them and that the slave clearly missed.

That afternoon, after the redhead asked if everything was alright and advised him that he should act like a grown up and _talk_ with the older man, Ahkmenrah suggested playing a game of Senet[1]. Leonellus looked far from pleased because he was dismissing the conversation he wanted to have but eventually ended up agreeing with him because Ahkmenrah felt like whinning and hugging him just to get away with his sudden desire to play.

Well, that proved to be a _terrible_ decision.

Leonellus kept _losing_. He crossed his arms and frowned as the Prince tossed the sticks, always getting exactly what he needed. It was almost like he was cheating. In the taverns of Rome, you could find plenty of men playing Venus Throw[2]. Many of them ended up fighting and sometimes trying to kill each other when coins were involved. Even if Leonellus was not risking anything, he still hated losing. It was one of his flaws that he had since he was a child. He liked winning in games that involved intelligence and cunning because he lacked anything else, like charm or strength.

“You are cheating.” the slave finally accused him.

“I am not!” Ahkmenrah quickly replied. “You are just learning how to play, it's only natural for you to lose.”

Leonellus shook his head briskily. “The Gods allow beginners to succeed, so they will see victory as something that might come back when you less expect it.” That was why most men lost so much money: hope could be a tricky thing. “This is not the Gods' doing.” he gestured at all the houses Ahkmenrah already got off the board when Leonellus just managed to achieve his first one.

“It is!” the Prince frowned. “It's not my fault if Thoth is guiding my acts.” he began with a happy little smile, taking the very last house he had on the board. “He is an expert. When Nut got pregnant and she was forbidden to give birth during the three hundred and sixty days of the year[3], Thoth played a game of Senet with Khonsu. They gambled and he won five days o-”

“Don't try to distract me with your _stories_.” In any other situation, he would have listened to his explanation and perhaps even ask about their calendar. In Rome, there were ten months of around thirty days each. From where did they get all those sxity left? Maybe another God made a higher bet to obtain them. “You are _cheating_.” he vehemently repeated.

“No, I am not!” he pouted this time, hating being accused of such. He was _always_ honest, but Thoth still scolded him — _I told you; you should have let him win a couple of times, at least_ —. The problem was that the Prince liked winning as much as the slave hated losing. “There's nothing wrong in not being fortune while playing, Leonellus.” Now that sounded awfully condescending. The slave frowned even more. “You are already beautiful and clever. You can't have it all, you know?” he tossed the sticks a second time and he _had_ to be cheating. “Looks like I'm going to win again, though.” he grinned as he hummed, awfully arrogant.

Leonellus had enough. In a sudden move, he knocked the board to the side and allowed all the sticks and houses to scatter all over the floor. He rubbed his nose and then cleared his throat, ignoring his sudden moment of anger. He couldn't even remember the last time he got upset or like he _felt_ he could be upset. Since he wouldn't be punished, he allowed himself to show emotions even if this last one was not exactly pleasing.

“Why you'd do that?! I was having fun!”

“Well, I wasn't.” Leonellus shrugged. “I am bored.”

“You act like this and then _I_ am the child?” the Prince insisted, picking the houses from the ground and leaving them inside of the board, so he wouldn't lose any and the cats wouldn't assume those were toys they could play with. Or worse, _food_. “I didn't like that, Leonellus. It was not right.” he muttered, looking at him from the corner of his eyes. The red slave ignored him, swaying his knee and resting his weight over his palms. Ahkmenrah briefly eyed the pale skin of his shin and the even paler little scars that decorated it. Hathor sighed deliciously and he tried to ignore her. The Prince sat down over the cushions on the ground once again after he was done picking everything up and scratched the back of his neck. When he raised his eyes and found that Leonellus was looking at him, he cleared his throat. He shifted when he saw that Leonellus crawled towards him and rested his hands on his shoulders. The Goddess laughed with delight. “I'm _still_ not pleased.” He tried his best to be tough. He would have to be, sometimes. He should _learn_.

“And I'm _still_ bored. Let's have sex.” he squeezed his shoulders. Leonellus wasn't even trying to make amends through affection. He was bored of that damned game and he would very much rather have sex better than allow the Prince to convince to play it again.

Ahkmenrah parted his lips. They had a very _fruitful_ relationship ever since they made love for the first time. They did plenty and he didn't think that was much left to discover, but Gods he always craved some _more_. And even if he did, at that very moment, he tried to pretend. To be firm and try to have strong convictions: “I am not in the mood, right now” _Oh, liar! You know dignity will take you nowhere,_ said the Goddess. _Don't waste the chance, you can always teach him a lesson_ , advised Babi.

Leonellus snickered, far from believing him. “You are not in the mood, _right now_.” he repeated, stressing the last two words. Ahkmenrah nodded as he rested a hand on his waist. Not because he was giving up, just because it was a comfortable position. “And surely there's nothing I can do to change your mind.”

“Pharaoh is not easily persuaded. Pharaoh must have strong convictions.” Maybe if he says it out loud it will be easier to accomplish.

“So I assume that Pharaoh doesn't want to be _pleasured_ , does he?” Leonellus nodded.

“ _Pleasured_?” he licked his lips.

“Yes. I think that would be far more _entertaining_ than playing a game, since you are far from being a child.” This was something he was still learning: _seduction_. It felt good, it was fun. How much could someone change thanks to a good experience! “You are a man.”

“I am a man.” Ahkmenrah nodded.

“A man with _power_.”

“Yeah...” the Prince breathed, very tempted to listen to everything he had left to say. Hathor and Babi kept fanning his flame, making it impossible for him to reject Leonellus.

“And I thought that since you are clearly going through _something_ you are not sharing with me,” he took the chance to reprimand him. “I could help to clear your mind. That would _please_ me.”

“It pleases you to offer me pleasure?” Ahkmenrah asked, following this new game that was far more intriguing than Senet.

“ _Greatly_.” It did. For some reason, it brought him satisfaction to see his body contorting with thrill and desire. He was still getting used to enjoying sex so much and he wanted to do it at any chance that he had. Judging how the Prince was caressing his waist and licking his lips, so he did. “It's my wish to make you happy. To help you ease both your mind and your body.” he brushed his thumbs over his shoulders, caressing his arms and the bracelets. “But if you are not in the mood right now...”

“I said I wasn't in the mood for having _sex_.” Ahkmenrah quickly interrupted him. Leonellus allowed him to talk with a small smirk on his lips. _Darling, darling boy_. “But I am not against being pleasured. I had a very rough day.” He barely did anything at all. Leonellus witnessed such laziness.

“A very rough day indeed.” He decided to be merciful and not point out the fact that he truly didn't do anything until they decided to play Senet. “Leave it to me.” the slave offered, moving his hands towards his chest and caressing the delicate and soft skin of his stomach. “I'll improve your mood.”

And his mood _did_ improve.

He no longer thought about that last game he didn't get the win. This was way _better_ than victory.

Hathor had to be right behind him, supporting his back with her own chest. He could hear her voice praising Leonellus — _He's willing to do anything for you, Beloved, you won't find anyone better for you; so sweet and devoted_ — and Ahkmenrah stuttered something similar to what she said — _You are so good for me, I love you, I love you_ — . Babi, on the other hand, tightened the grip he had on Leonellus' hair, showing him the right pace and depth to obtain as much pleasure as possible. The Chief of Baboons was far more demanding than the Prince himself and at some point he even heard the Roman gag and dig his fingers over his thighs before he pulled back to take a deep breath.

 _Apologize_ , suggested Hathor. _Kiss him_ , ordered Babi.

Ahkmenrah cupped Leonellus' chin and kissed him deeply, feeling how moist his lips were. Then, he repeated: “Sorry, sorry.”

“It's fine.” he cleared his throat, caressing his neck. When he tried to wipe his mouth, Ahkmenrah stopped him and gave him _the_ look. The look of a request Leonellus couldn't ignore. He moved his hand and left it over his thigh before he wrapped his lips around his cock again and continued sucking.

“Oh, Hathor.” he praised and the Goddess purred — _I know, I know_ —. The tip of the Roman's nose brushed over his lower stomach the more he got in his mouth and the Prince's squeezed the back of his neck, as an encouragement. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, tilting his head back and moaning over the constant and soft wet noises. Ahkmenrah rolled his head to the side and curled his toes. When he rested his chin over his shoulder and finally opened his eyes, he saw that Leonellus' were on him. “Gods, Gods...!” he panted, feeling the fire on his stomach and legs. “I can't, I can't.” his knees became nervous and the slave kept them from moving my holding them properly. He bobbed his head and Babi instructed with a gruff voice: _Let go, you know he likes it when you do it inside his mouth_. He was not tricking him, a couple of past experiences proved that Babi was right in that aspect. “I can't hold back anymore.” he still decided to follow the advice Hathor asked him at the very beginning; _it never hurts to ask and to warm_. As Leonellus hummed encouragingly, squeezing his left thigh warmly, he understood that it was an invitation to do so.

He supported a good part of his weight on the hand over the floor and bucked his hips up, raising them enough to touch the back of Leonellus' throat a couple of times before he finally came while furrowing his eyebrows and calling his name. The red slave tilted his head back so he could begin to swallow and not choke for a second time. Then, mindful that nothing would spill out, he leaned back and sat down over his ankles. Ahkmenrah was panting and squeezing his eyes shut. _That_ pleased him greatly, indeed. As a slave, he never had an impact on anyone. To see someone as important as Ahkmenrah change his mood because of him... Well, that was new. And he loved him far more than he could manage to understand, he wanted to do _everything_ that he could for him, his pleasure and his happiness.

After swallowing, Leonellus chuckled lightly with a raspy voice: “I hope nothing comes out of my head.” He doubted a Solar Disk would suit him with his already red hair.

“You are not related to Set.” he still struggled to keep his breath under control as he cleaned, this time, Leonellus' mouth and chin with his own hand.

“You still don't know that for sure.” he teased. The God of Chaos had tricky ways to bring damnation over mortal lives. Joy could be just as dangerous as tragedy, sometimes. Made the miserable end far more complicated to foresee.

“Oh, I sure do.” Ahkmenrah insisted as he grabbed the slave by his waist and got him on his lap. He would need some time to recover, but meanwhile he could play with him as much as he wanted. Leonellus would let him do so.

*** * ***

Back home, Leonellus never felt ashamed of being seen while someone else seeked pleasure inside of him. At the domus, there were two possibilities, either being seen by a slave or a master. If it was another slave who witnessed such, they often smiled with sympathy, knowing how it was to have to take that unwanted position. Sometimes that feeling came, also, with a hint of _relief_ because it wasn't them that time. If it was the master who bumped into them, it was as uninteresting as a clear sky. They didn't care much about what could happen to a slave unless that kept them from fulfilling their task. This was entirely different, because the act itself was different. And so was the situation.

Leonellus didn't want anyone to know, even less to _see_. He didn't want to be perceived as the one that was tricking and seducing the Prince. At the same time, he didn't want to butcher his happiness and his pleasure for fear. He did that his whole life and perhaps he was becoming selfish because each time he wanted more. He was becoming a person before he was properly given the right and that, for a slave, was tremendously _dangerous_.

He insisted that this was their room and that Leonellus should be the one taking care of it. His wish to achieve freedom didn't mean he didn't want to do _anything_. Freedmen didn't change their occupation often, they merely lived their lives differently; with control over them. Leonellus liked feeling useful, but the Prince wanted to spoil him. And he thought that a good way to do so was to allow a couple of servants here and there to do small tasks such as lighting the oil candles.

In the same way that sex didn't stop any slave from doing their part in Rome, it didn't stop them in Egypt either. Over Ahkmenrah's shoulder, he could see the girl that was trying her best to hide her smile by biting her lips. She had to be around their age, far from ashamed or feeling like she was intruding something. Maybe she considered that the whole situation was hilarious and that she couldn't wait to share this with someone. Anyone that would cross her way.

Ahkmenrah cupped his cheek and kissed him deeply. Leonellus blinked and closed his eyes, trying his best to focus and not feel shame. He shouldn't. It wasn't... Well, yes! It was a very intimate moment, for him. His love for the Prince could be potentially used _against_ him. And he loved to think about his room as a sacred space. As something that kept them safe. Vesta's fire kept burning and grew bigger when the servant girl approached it, allowing her to know that she didn't need to tend it. Only Leonellus could take care of it, it was his reponsibility. The Roman squeezed the Prince's arm gentle and accepted the tongue inside his mouth, frowing slightly and raising his left leg, trying to make himself comfortable as he rested his thigh against his waist. That new angle allowed the Prince to push deeper inside of him. Leonellus moaned against his mouth and even he had to admit that he sounded _far_ from dignified. He would _swear_ that he heard the girl snicker.

He turned his head and broke the moist kiss, breathing sharply: “ _Wait_.”

“Leonellus.” he called his name with that sweet _sweet_ voice of his, chasing his lips.

“Wait!” he sighed a little louder, arching his back, keeping the distance between their mouths.

“What is it? Am I hurting you?” Ahkmenrah asked, absolutely oblivious to what was happening. He rested a caring hand on his hip and looked down at him, squeezing his flesh tenderly.

“No, it's just...” Neither he wanted to be seen as a weakling that couldn't take his lover's passion. He could satisfy the Prince properly. “I am ju—” he stuttered, not knowing how to explain himself and neither wanting to admit that he felt shy while the one disturbing his peace was still there. Gods, he wanted her _gone_!

And while Leonellus didn't say anything, Ahkmenrah noticed that his green eyes were looking past him. He frowned and turned his head as he looked over his shoulder, too. The girl was not stupid enough to look at them directly. No one even looked at the Prince at his face while in public, even less in that situation, while he was naked and in his own room. Her back was currently towards them, lighting the last oil lamp in the bedroom. It didn't feel like she even _cared_. When he frowned, not understanding why it was even an issue for him, Leonellus rested his forehead against his shoulder. His face was all warm and his fingertips pressed more and more against his arms. He needed to show him that it didn't matter, in his land? That it was perfectly normal and even part of religious rituals, such as the Festival of Drunkness or even the New Year, but surely they didn't get to see that part as both of them were busy confessing their feelings for each other away from the crowd.

Ahkmenrah slowly pushed Leonellus back on the mattress. He kissed his face, reassuringly. “It's not shameful.” he calmly explained. “It's beautiful. And brings me so much pleasure.” the Prince kissed his lips and caressed his cheeks with his thumbs as he held his face. “Think about me, _only_.”

Leonellus nodded, small and nervous, holding his forearms. _Venus, don't let this have any consequences_. The Goddess _laughed_ at him.

At least he could hear the girl _finally_ walking towards the door. He raised his arms and wrapped them tightly around Ahkmenrah's shoulders, using his body as a shield so the girl couldn't see him anymore. The Prince took that as an invitation to keep going and started thrusting back and forward, picking up speed and strength. He moaned as soon as the door closed after her.

The Prince never had a lover, before. That was known by anyone who worked at the palace. The girl bowed briefly at the guards, who kept ignoring the whimpers and moans that were now happening behind closed doors. She didn't know that Romans were so shy. The one they called Deshret had to be timid and innocent if he tried to hide like a little thing under their beloved heir. She grinned and began to walk faster and faster, wanting to share her experience.

It didn't take much for her to find a confident.

“Penthu!” she rushed towards the scribe.

The young man turned as his name was called. “Tiya, what is it?”

“You won't believe what I just witnessed.” she said. “I was allowed inside of the Prince's chambers.”

“Oh, were you?” he snorted, not believing her. It was known that ever since the Roman boy slept in the Prince's room, he took care of it for that was his task as a slave.

“I was!” she insisted while nodding. “Things have changed. The slave that was sent by Set no longer takes care of it.”

“Deshret?” the scribe asked. She nodded. “Well, he has been his Fan-Bearer for a while.” Maybe that proved a bit much for the boy. He looked frail and thin. There was nothing that was fairly remarkable about him other than the red hair that _sometimes_ peeked from under the fabric he used to cover it.

“Well! He is more than that now, too.” Tiya smirked and stepped closer before she whispered: “The Prince was making love to him and he purred like a _cat_. I heard he was welcomed into our land by Sekhmet, but he did not roar like a lion for sure.” she snickered, making fun of the stranger before she leaned back.

Penthu opened his lips and couldn't help but smirk slightly. “You are lying. You _must_ be.”

“I'm not! Hathor, I'm not! I bet she was part of this. The Prince looked vigorous and masculine. So beautiful.” she sighed, dreamy. Oh, to be able to replace the Roman boy! “And he called him _Leonellus_.”

“That's what I heard, yes...” Penthu nodded as he recalled that the Prince never called him Deshret.

“He allowed His Majesty to do _whatever_ he wanted with him.” Tiya explained. “He was underneath him, and he seemed to enjoy it until I walked inside of the room. But as soon as I left, he started to feel pleasure again.”

“They are lovers?” the scribe asked.

“His Majesty worried about hurting him. I would say so.” If not, he wouldn't care much about the well-being of a slave. “You think the Roman tricked him?”

“Probably, but if that's the case, the Prince will find out as he grows wiser.” he replied with a small shrug. Penthu sighed and nodded. “Is that all? I'm late.”

“What do you mean, _all_? You would have never known about it if it wasn't for me.” she crossed her arms.

“Perhaps, but now I do and my duty is more important than _gossip_.”

“You are no fun, Penthu. No fun at all!” she waved her hand before she walked away, hoping to find someone else who would appreciate her secret far better than the scribe.

*** * ***

Perhaps the confession did have an impact on Penthu, after all.

Kawab was far from being a young man but his eyes still worked _perfectly_. When he met Penthus, one of the many scribes that worked under his orders, he didn't miss the quote the scribbled on the corner of the papyrus that briefly explained the first weeks of the harvest of the new year. Barely two sentences but awfully revealing: “ _The Prince used the slave's real name and lovingly called him Leonellus. He, the one with the Strength of Ra, did to the slave what His Majesty desired_ [4].”

The Vizier pointed at it and very calmly asked: “Where did you get this from?”

“I...” Penthus babbled. While he was already a grown man, he was still a scribe and Kawab was Vizier. He shouldn't speak much, even less attempt to trick him. “I heard it.”

“From who?” insisted Kawab. He needed to know how many were aware of Ahkmenrah's unfitting lover. It could bring them more trouble than they already had.

“I just... walked past His Majesty's room and heard it.” He wouldn't mention Tiya's name. She could end up in so much trouble, considering that she was only a servant.

“And how does that affect your life, Penthu?” the older man questioned, awfully calm and, in fact, very rationally.

The scribe bowed his head and looked down. “It _doesn't_.”

“Exactly.” Kawab nodded before he resumed talking: “I would like a new copy. This time without any reference to what happens inside of the Prince's chambers, if you wouldn't mind.”

“Of course.” Penthu replied with a very small voice, leaving the papyrus aside and writing once again all the necessary information and ignoring the romantic poetry.

Kawab didn't show gratitude towards the scribe for commanding him to do something exactly like he was requested to. As he walked out of the room, he thought about that accident as what it truly was: an act with little consequence.

Still, he knew it was only a matter of time until everybody in the palace would know about the nature of the relationship their Prince had with the Roman slave. And while he would be hardly the first one to take a male lover, none of them could compare to Ahkmenrah. The boy was noble and perhaps a bit foolish. He would want to offer the boy the stars if Nut were to bow so he could reach them. He will no longer want to take a wife —well, not that he ever got him to be interested in that idea— just to make sure that Leonellus didn't feel offended by his acts. So he wouldn't feel _betrayed_.

Their dynasty needed heirs and even if Ahkmenrah said that his legacy should continue with Kahmunrah's children, he knew that only made him weak to the eyes of many. Why allow the Prince to rule when his older brother had more experience and suitable heirs? If it wasn't for Kahmnurah's lack of charm and his displeasing personality, he would have had far more people on his side, keeping Ahkmenrah from ruiling no matter which was Pharaoh's wish.

Pharaoh was going to die. The man refused to eat or drink, he knew that the Gods would take him soon so no one would see his weakness. They would allow him to die in the privacy of his room, in silence but dignified. After them, Ahkmenrah would take the throne and then what? Release the boy from slavery? That would bring chaos and Set would rule over Kemet. They couldn't allow that. Neither they could risk the slave becoming ambitious and wanting the Prince to get interested in Roman practices. _Leonellus_ should disappear for the well-being of their country. Kawab didn't feel especially guilty about it but on the other hand, he didn't think it was fair to make such decision. All of this was based on his conjectures. His mind was warning him, but so far, other than a few comments from Ahkmenrah, he had no evidence of what could come their way. He was offered the position of Vizier because he was fair. And he would be until the day he would die.

But how to solve this? Rumors that involve sex and passion usually become too precious to not be shared. He knew Penthu well enough, the boy didn't have the courage to go against his wish. Even less after being asked to ignore the romance that was happening behind close doors. With some luck, the story dies _there_.

“Kawab.”

As his name was called, the Vizier turned around to find Kahmunrah walking towards him. He kept himself from sighing. “Yes?” Nothing good will come out of this.

“I caught some servants gossiping, I thought you would want to hear what they were saying.” That moment reminded him the tendency Kahmunrah he had when he was a teenage to earn people's favors while antagonizing a third person. Alliance through confrontation, that was the only way he knew how to approach people.

After reading Penthu's poetry, he had an idea of what could that be. Were those two really that loud while loving each other? “I think I have an idea. About your brother and his slave, right?” As the younger man nodded, Kawab closed his eyes. Hathor should stop feasting on their love for everybody's sake. “ _Well_.” He could always deny the evidence, talk with the boy and tell him to only satisfy the Prince in private and quietly.

“I made sure those servants would never talk again.” Kahmunrah said, keeping Kawab from walking. “I don't think my brother needs more pressure on his back now that he is gaining more and more power.” His jealousy was always a good motivation for some cruelty.

“What have you done to them?” It wouldn't be the first time the oldest son decided that he had the right to decide over servants and slaves' lives.

“I have a good friend that doesn't mind getting his hands dirty.” Kahmunrah explained. “He did it with pleasure.”

“The company you keep defines you.” Kawab gave Ahkmenrah a similar advice right before their argument. “I'd get rid of him if I were you.” he muttered before he turned around, ready to walk away. “And for the Gods, Kahmunrah show some respect towards life and stop taking them. You'll enrage Anubis if you keep sending innocents his way.”

“I can ask him to take care of _him_ as well. Solve the issue for you.” Kahmunrah raised his voice. Kawab didn't stop. He would not let him tempt him. “He is Greek. The slave's name is _also_ Greek.” They didn't know much about him, but he was Roman for sure. If his name came from another land, it had to be because he was either fond of the language or its people. Perhaps past and beautiful memories. The only ones he ever had. “It would be as easy as luring a fly with honey and then closing your fist.”

And since Kawab knew Kahmunrah's nature and how he took silence as an invitation before, he said loud and clear: “ _No_.”

He didn't have the right to decide if he had to die or not. He didn't have any evidence, _yet_.

*** * ***

Time was the one responsible to give Kawab what he needed to end the slave's life.

Ahkmenrah was sitting on his throne. The room was empty except for their three cats that were roaming around and sometimes chasing each other to entertain themselves. Leonellus was no longer fanning the Prince. He was asked to stop since Ahkmenrah preferred to feel his light weight over his lap than the light breeze caressing his face. He smiled tenderly down at him as the other played with the amulet he gave him as a present. So far it looked like it had been working just _fine_.

“I've been thinking.” the Prince confessed, brushing his thumb over the details in gold.

“What about?” Leonellus kept his hands over his lap, looking calm now that he had the certainty that they were alone.

“You.” Ahkmenrah confessed, making the Roman boy smile lovingly. He even earned a kiss over his forehead. “And slaves.” he forced himself to continue. Leonellus' hands caressed his arms, encouraging him to keep talking. “It's miserable, isn't it?”

The redhead licked his lips and nodded, slowly. “It is.” To live without owning your acts or words could easily become the most detaching and saddest fate a human could go through. It was living inside of a body that wasn't yours and that you didn't have the right to either protect or love.

“If I gave you the chance to be free, _properly_ ,” not only something spoken between the two of them as a way to let him understand that he would never force him to submit to him. “would you take it?”

“Oh, Graces, yes.” Leonellus breathed as he closed his eyes, like he just tasted the favourite beverage of the Gods.

Ahkmenrah nodded and looked down, briefly. “Would you leave me?” he asked. “If you were free, you'd have the right to walk away from me. Go back home, as a free man.” he whispered.

Leonellus cupped his face and kissed his lips, this time. “I would never leave you. This is the happiest I've ever been in my life.” He made that confession, before. And he meant every word. Numerius and Aulus made him happy, but he couldn't walk away from the Prince. His heart was his. He would never be complete without him. “I'll always be by your side.” Until his very last day that couldn't be very far.

The young heir dared to look up at him again and smiled briefly. “So, do you think... Do you think that if I gave all the slaves the chance to be choose...” he trailed off for a second. “would they stay?” That's a risk he had to take if he wanted to abolish slavery in his land. He never really cared before but now, after seeing it from so close, he thought it was hideous and vicious. And he would want to protect his people, not harm them.

Leonellus sighed and made sure that Ahkmenrah would keep looking at him. “I don't know.” He could only speak for himself. He didn't know if some of them truly dreamed about leaving Egypt behind. Perhaps others thought very much like himself and only wanted to own themselves. “But the only thing I know is that you can't force someone to love. Either you as their Pharaoh or this land. Love has to come from freedom, it will never bloom under orders and tiranny.” Ahkmenrah looked insecure. Leonellus cupped his cheek. “Some will leave, and you have to let them go. Others will stay. But both will remember you as a fair man who saw injustice and decided to stop it.”

“Kawab says that it will bring chaos.” Ahkmenrah bowed his head forward and rested his forehead over Leonellus' shoulder. “That it will ruin us. But I don't think that now that I am aware that something is wrong I can keep ignoring it. Not when _I_ can stop it.” The red slave caressed the back of his head. “Do you think a country without slaves can exist?” Because Egypt was far from being the only one. Neither it was Rome.

Leonellus didn't think he had the answer for that. He didn't get to see enough and surely he couldn't predict the future. He was not Janus, he didn't have eyes set on what was about to come. “I don't know.” he replied with honesty. “But I'm inclined to believe that no country can be noble while being built over the shoulders of those who have no rights or benefits.” If they were all born in the very same way, then why some of them were denied basic privileges? “This country is like nothing I've seen before: prosperous and beautiful.” The precise word was _majestic_. It had something that Rome couldn't even think of. Or maybe he only thought so because Rome used to be a prison. Either way, Leonellus was sure that Ahkmenrah could do great things during his reign. “If you can make it fair, as well...” Leonellus stopped talking before he forced himself to think. “But this decision must come from you. You shouldn't do it because yo—”

“Not because you helped me to see something that means that I am only doing it for you.” Ahkmenrah interrupted him. He didn't want to hear Kawab through Leonellus. “Sometimes you need to meet someone to understand something that is so far from you. Sometimes you need a bridge between you and something you don't know much about.” he took both of Leonellus' hands and kissed them. “You are the bridge.” But not his _only_ reason. He had to do things _right_. His mother always told him that he should listen to his heart. That it was the only way to become what people expected him to be. “I want to be a good Pharaoh.”

“You will be, look at you.” the red slave hummed, squeezing his hands. “The Sun _wishes_ it could glow as bright as you do.”

Ahkmenrah bit his lower lip and smiled, flattered and happy. Ra didn't scold him nor felt offended at the comparison. They kissed and he brushed the tip of his nose against Leonellus'. “I want my father to be okay again.” But the more he heard about him, the less hope he had. “But I can't wait, Leonellus. I'm scared but... But I'm finding strength within myself.” A value he knew he always had but that was slowly changing with him: from a cocky boy to a confident man. “I want to make changes. I want to see myself as Pharaoh. I want you to see me, too.” he hummed, with a naughty grin.

“I couldn't love you more than I already do.” he confessed. Ahkmenrah wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed him all over his face.

“I'm going to make so many changes, Leonellus!” the Prince promised, raising his voice with delight. He moved his body forward and the red slave had to hold onto him so he wouldn't fall backwards as he chuckled. “Kawab won't be able to stop me! Not even with his advices! You'll be right by my side! This country will become a different land under my reign, you shall see!”

And those words were heard, not only by Leonellus who knew the Prince enough to be able to tell that he was being childish and overreacting again. He could change his realm as much as he wanted, but it would take time. Leonellus hoped to the Gods that he would get to see those glorious days.

But Kawab obtained what his heart desperately wanted to have.

Those words were heard out of context and during a moment of laughter and foolishness, nonetheless they were spoken out loud. The Vizier was still silent, holding the door partially open. His poisonous thoughts were clouding his mind again. He stepped back and closed the door silently, without being spotted by _either_ of the two boys.

Kawab walked away and began to think. Ahkmenrah was out of control. That love of his was forcing him to act in a way that would only please the slave. To make changes could imply dealing with a rupture of the order that was created centuries ago and that brought riches and peace to their land. And it didn't sound like he cared much about what he could say about that matter. Was his position as Vizier in danger? He will be pushed to the side, after all, if he ever stands in the way. Ahkmenrah himself said such words even if he surely didn't mean them as a threat. Everything was pushing him towards suspicion and the boy... The slave should disappear. _Had_ to disappear. In the same way that days ago he didn't think that he had the right to decide over the life of the Roman boy, that fragment of a private conversation brought a new point of view.

Ahkmenrah would suffer at first, but he would compose soon enough when duty would come. They could make it look like the slave ran away. He wouldn't be the first time to try. Perhaps keep the body and rescue him from the river or the sea. If they made it look like he drowned, no one would dare to touch him[5].

 _Oh, Gods_. He hated being right. He said that the boy would become a complication. Look at them now.

Kawab didn't feel remorseful or shaken. He felt tired but convinced. Perhaps that serenity came with the fact that, deep down, he _truly_ wanted to get rid of him. Perhaps the death of the slave would bring him the peace he has been lacking since he arrived. In any other situation, with Pharaoh being conscious and well and without Kahmunrah desperately trying to ascend to the throne or with, perhaps, the certainty that he would never lose his occupation, the boy would be allowed to live. But... None of that mattered because none of that was possible anymore.

For the very first time in many years, it was Kawab who went to find Kahmunrah.

*** * ***

The man had no name. The only thing they knew about him was that he was Greek, as Kahmunrah said. In the same way that Kawab never cared much about Ahkmenrah's slave's name, he didn't care about this one either. Kahmunrah called him _Arcadian_ when he spoke to him and he guessed that was more than enough for someone who would only be in their lives to help them with _an unwanted guest_.

The man didn't look down while being observed. There was something absent —the fear of consequences— that made him look awfully calm. That and the scars decorating both his face and arms made him think that perhaps, in the past, he used to be a soldier or a mercenary.

“You will find the boy in the throne room. He is a redhead, pale. Scrawny.” Kawab explained briefly, not feeling _anything_ still. Everything he did was for his country. A boy could not be compared to a realm, no matter how special he was to the Prince. He'll mourn and then forget about him, like he never existed. “He answers to the name of Leonellus.” The Arcadian raised an eyebrow, questioningly. “Not Greek, _Roman_. But he speaks the language.” He still remembered how Nephi tried to sell the boy like he was nothing but stock when he brought him from across the sea.

The Arcandian nodded.

“No blood.” Kawab stressed that part. They couldn't leave any evidence of violence. They will pretend that the slave merely left. _Just like that_. He will have to be convicing to keep the Prince from trying to find him, but surely the Vizier was underrating the feelings Ahkmenrah had for Leonellus.

The Arcadian nodded a second time.

“You take care of paying him and getting rid of the slave's body.” Kawab briefly looked at Kahmunrah. His eyes were shinning, sinister and eager. The older man didn't feel like he could judge him, this time. The idea of knowing that this would be the last time they heard about the slave brought him _peace_. Close enough to satisfaction. They weren't so different, anymore. “Right.” he sighed and nodded. “Let me know once it's over. We'll have to comfort the Prince. Make sure he never finds out.” Saying those words out loud should help him realise what he was doing, but guilt never came after they were spoken.

After that, Kawab simply left.

The Prince had a hard time leaving the slave in the throne room while he had another meeting with his advisors. When Kawab arrived, he smiled briefly, almost sheepishly. Perhaps he wanted to make amends with him and he didn't even know how to start. He wanted to show himself like someone they could trust through change and innovation. He would have to if he wanted to abolish slavery. Kawab rested a hand over his shoulder as he walked inside of the chamber and smiled back at him, quick yet caring.

He was doing this for _him_.

Leonellus was waiting while holding Niveus. The cat always wanted to be close to him, purring and rubbing his head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat, like it was something he was guarding _personally_. What if Sekhmet not only lived inside of Rubra? Perhaps she split personalities. Niveus could be the one closer to Hathor; her other side, her _kinder_ side. He kissed the cat and kept an eye on Ater, that was still walking around the room. Rubra stood in front of him, as he was sitting at the bottom of the stairs that lead towards the throne. The flabellum rested over the steps, close to him.

Everything was calm, but it wouldn't take long before danger would arrive.

The door opened and Leonellus raised his green eyes, looking up. He expected to see a servant or perhaps another slave. But it was the beard that gave away that the was also a stranger in that land. Kyrillos shaved, just like other Romans. He did what he saw and what he was _ordered_ to do. But one of the few things that Egypt had in common with Rome was that the men didn't have the habit to grow facial hair. The Greeks did.

“I heard you speak many languages.” the man said as he approached him after closing the door after him.

Leonellus blinked and smiled slightly. It was not his presence that caused that reaction, it was the language he was speaking. “Only the ones I was taught.” he replied. The red slave stood up, leaving Niveus on the ground and picking the flabellum. The memory of his mentor pushed him to keep talking, even to a stranger. “What's your name?”

“I don't have one.” And while that could have been strange to others, the slave didn't forget the fact he didn't remember the name his parents gave him, if they ever did such. “I heard yours is _Leonellus_.”

The Roman boy licked his lips, coyly. Ah, to think of people knowing that he had a name that related him both to Kyrillos —who gave it to him— and Ahkmenrah —who returned it—...! The luxury of being _human_. “It is.”

“But you are Roman.” The Arcadian followed the long line of Leonellus' nose with a finger: from the bridge to the tip.

The slave blinked and cleared his throat, his smile becoming smaller until it fell. Now, he yet had to see others whose nose was big as his. He didn't think a feature offered him a citizenship. The customs and the rights did. And then, of course, he also remembered Vesta's words: _don't let anyone touch you, you are his_. Leonellus stepped back. He didn't wish to be touched and therefore, he won't be. Ahkmenrah reminded him he could choose, so he was the first decision he was taking: in silence but with conviction. “So to speak.” He came from Rome, he was never seen as a Roman until he left his land. It was a distinction, not a description.

“Are you scared of me?” And that question changed _everything_. The air around them became heavier; the time began to slow down. The Arcadian barely blinked, using his height against Leonellus, who was way smaller than the man.

“ _No_.” He refused to be scared. He didn't _want_ to be scared. He didn't want to worry about someone hurting him and getting away with it because he couldn't fight to keep himself alive. _Your life is something precious_ , Ahkmenrah said. He cherished his advice in the same way that Ahkmenrah usually asked for his.

“Don't you think should?” The Arcadian stepped forward.

Leonellus stepped back. “No.” he answered again. _Find your Prince_ , Vesta warned him. For the very first time, the Goddess spoke to him first. That must mean he was in trouble. “I should go.” he muttered before he decided to step to the side. Niveus meowed and stretched, ready to follow him. Rubra was still, not moving and keeping her eyes on the stranger, waiting for something to happen.

The Arcadian grabbed his arm, barely using his strength and said: “You are going to stay here with me.”

Kyrillos often said that a word to the wise is sufficient. No need to overexplain. His life was at risk _again_. This situation, unlike the ones before, did not involve a docile lioness or a snake confused by darkness. This was a man, with all his faculties and the intention to kill him. This, he wouldn't survive if he relied on luck. Leonellus needed more time to react than Rubra did. The ginger cat screamed and jumped on the man as Niveus rushed towards the door, were Ater was already trying to push it open with his head, effortless.

That loud and angry sound that came from the cat forced him to react. Leonellus still carried the flabellum that was too heavy to be used as a weapon. He could barely hold it properly while fanning the Prince, for sure he didn't manage to hit the Arcadian, being too slow due to its weight. The man kicked Rubra away from him and grabbed the flabellum before he could even hit him. With a sharp move, he stole the only thing Leonellus could use against him.

 _Run_ , spoke a voice inside of him. Not a deity, but his wish to survive. This time, it was not only his wish to not die a slave. It was way more than that. Leonellus shoved him aside with Rubra's help, who immediately attacked the man again and distracted him while the slave ran towards the door. He pushed it open with his body and Ater and Niveus ran in front of him, taking the responsibility to guide him towards safety. Towards Ahkmenrah.

His heart was beating hard and loud against his throat. His legs were on fire, feeling weak because of the fear. Has he ever been scared like this, before? Leonellus accepted that they would try to kill him as soon as he would become a problem. But he didn't expect it to happen _so soon_. Ahkmenrah didn't even think about getting married or having a baby. He wasn't even Pharaoh, yet. Foolishly, Leonellus thought that they still had a little time. Love was making him careless and that would kill him.

It _was_ going to kill him. He panted and looked over his shoulder, seeing how the man was after him. He could outrun him. He was faster than many. If he could survive the streets of Rome at the age of twelve, he could survive just one man at the age of twenty. He was wiser, he was faster, he was...

The piercing pain of the flabellum hitting his shoulder made him stumble and finally fall. He groaned, holding his dislocated shoulder with his left hand. Ater and Niveus stopped and quickly returned to him, meowing with urgency. Reminding him that he had to stand up if he wanted to make it.

He was a prey and the Arcadian was a _hunter_.

This wouldn't take long.

The man grabbed Rubra and threw her away, so she would stop biting and scratching him. The cat hurt him way more than the boy did. He could use only one hand to kill him, but he was willing to indulge himself. He never liked Romans all too much, anyway. See the life fading from his eyes with squeezing his neck with both of his hands will bring him _peace_.

Leonellus pressed his forehead against the floor and groaned, shifting over his knees attempting to stand up once again while he kept holding his arm, numb and useless after the Arcadian used his flabellum as a spear to stop him. He had been _lucky_ , he could had hit him in the head, but once again, Kawab said that he didn't want any blood.

Ater and Niveus kept rushing him but he wasn't fast enough for them. As they saw that Rubra was unable to stop the Arcadian all by herself, they ran and left him behind. The red slave looked over his shoulder and saw that the man was walking towards him, calm and like he was enjoying how pathetic he looked like attempting to escape from him. His legs were okay, he could keep running. He _had_ to keep running.

When Leonellus was back on his feet and his right arm swayed like it was no longer attached to his body —he couldn't control it properly since it was out of place—, he couldn't even _think_ about running. The Arcadian snatched the back of his tunic and pulled back, making him fall over his back, this time. Leonellus groaned, a little disoriented, and turned over his unharmed arm, to try to keep standing up and run away even if that direction would take him further where Ahkmenrah could be. Rubra was not giving up and she kept harming the arms and even the face of the Arcadian. If she was still fighting, so he should. Still, it was quite complicated to drag his whole body with just one forearm.

The Roman boy didn't look like he was about to give up. That made the Arcadian smile and shake his head. What did he have to fight for? He was a slave. He would never be given dignity. He would never experience joy. When Leonellus was about to stand up for the second time, he grabbed him by his left ankle and pulled him towards him. Then, Leonellus thought about screaming. No one helped him when he was attacked by the asp. He was only told to keep it quiet.

 _Ahkmenrah will come_ , the voice told him. _Scream, call him. He will come. He will save you_. But a hand around his throat suffocated his voice before it could come out. The Arcadian pressed his knees against his shoulders so he couldn't move and Leonellus whimpered with pain. He couldn't reach his face with his left hand, no matter how hard he tried. “This is it, _puer_.” And to be called _that_ again, made him feel helpless. “The less you move, the easier it will be.” His big hands barely fit under Leonellus' chin. His neck was too thin and not long enough. The Arcadian began to squeeze.

He smacked his shoulder and started to move his legs nervously as he sat on his stomach. Rubra was biting the Arcadians fingers, screaming with frustration, unable to release him. Leonellus cried as he panted for air. His blood began to pool on his cheeks with an eerie shade of red. One that didn't belong to him. Still awfully clean. No one would hear him, no one would know what happened. They will get rid of his body, act like he never existed. And just like that, he will cease to exist.

Leonellus managed to hit him on his back with his bony knees, but that only made the Arcadian react with more strength. The only sound that filled the corridor were his sandals frantically moving over the marble and Rubra digging her fangs in the Arcadian's hands, uselessly fighting still.

Ahkmenrah did his best to behave. _Truly_. His idea was to go there and act like a grown up. Like a confident man, as he promised Leonellus back in the throne room before he encouraged him to go all by himself. But it was just so _boring_. And then, when his advisors started to argue among each other, Ahkmenrah took that distraction to slid out of the chambers and pretend that he just needed _some fresh air_ just in case if he was caught.

He was cleaning his nails while thinking about the moment when he would finally be reunited with his beloved. Of course, he would leave this bit out of the conversation. He had to believe that he was responsible even if he truly wasn't. From his spot he could see two of his cats running towards him. He smiled and crouched, to caress them. “You missed me?” he hummed lovingly before he noticed how shaken and aggressive they were. Mostly _Niveus_. They were biting his fingers and pulling his hand. “Hey! No, that's not...!” he frowned as Ater began to meow louder and louder. “What is it?” He asked as the black cat turned around and started to run. Niveus did the same. Ahkmenrah looked over his shoulder, at the closed door. This could be nothing but... The cats _never_ misbehaved or ever acted like that.

The Prince ran after them.

It didn't take long for the cats to take him were the macabre and silent crime was taking place. They slowed down, to not bring attention over themselves and show their owner what to do.

Ahkmenrah would recognize those sandals _anywhere_. He got them done especially for Leonellus as a way to show his love and respect and now they made a light nose over the marble as the slave kept trying to fight for his life. It was _useless_.

This time, unlike when Ahkmenrah had to witness Sekhmet's judgment, there wasn't anyone in the way that could block his vision. Someone was trying to kill Leonellus. And succeeding considering that the slave couldn't get him off him.

 _Go_ , and while he didn't recognize Set's voice because he never heard it before, he knew it belonged to him. Only the God of Fire could make his blood burn like boiling oil. Only the God of Chaos could cloud his judgment like that.

It was like wrath took control of him. He couldn't see anything other than those two bodies struggling over the marble in the middle of the corridor. He was still quiet as he picked the flabellum from the ground. It was also too heavy for Ahkmenrah to use attempt to use it as a hammer. That wouldn't do, he could miss and hit Leonellus by accident. The Arcadian was so focused on the dying boy underneath him that didn't hear the Prince standing him. He acted quickly and efficiently, holding it with both hands and pressing the golden pole against the Arcadian's neck, with a strength that didn't belong to him. Set was guiding his acts and therefore, was lending his viciousness that while being criticized by many, was _unstopabble_.

The Arcadian reacted out of instict, releasing Leonellus and bringing his hands to the pole. Ahkmenrah wouldn't let him go; wouldn't let him _live_. Not when he had been willing to take his lover away from him. Leonellus took a deep breath and coughed, loud and moist. Rubra licked his tears, now of relief. His vision was foggy as air entered inside of his lungs again and his brain began to process the new situation. Niveus and Ater joined their sister and nudged his head with their own, forcing him to realise what was happening. The slave touched his neck as he panted, blinking as he regained his hearing again. The Arcadian groaned like a beast on top of him and Ahkmenrah tightened his grip on the flabellum. The anger of the God would either suffocate the man or break his neck.

Ahkmenrah looked like a burning Sun raising behind the stranger. As vicious as it was in the Red Land. Destructive and fiery. His eyes were dark and his nostrils flared due to the effort that it was taking him to end the man's life. The Arcadian was reaching out for him and Leonellus couldn't allow that to happen, no matter how dizzy he felt and how one of his arms was still useless until it would be put back in its proper place. The Roman boy grabbed the Arcadian's hand and pulled down. The three cats attacked him again. There wasn't much he could do against the five of them and Set's delight.

The cracking noise was loud and explicit. The Arcadian's body became limp and the Prince threw it to the side, away from Leonellus. The same happened with the flabellum.

“My love.” Ahkmenrah breathed, losing the violence. Set wouldn't stay as long as he showed kindness or compassion. “My darling.” he helped him to sit up. He cupped his face and touched his cheeks and his chin, tenderly. The cats meowed and tried to comfort him as well by staying close to him. Leonellus parted his lips and shook his head. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to explain this. “Are you okay? My Leonellus.” the Prince gasped, holding back the tears. Now the fear of losing the red slave became a reality. Ahkmenrah kissed his face and Leonellus didn't respon to any of it, stunned. “Where did he hurt you?” The boy flinched when he tried to touch his neck, as it was red and sore, still.

“My... My arm.” His voice was harmed and raspy.

Ahkmenrah looked at it and he wrapped his own around him. “Healers!” he roared. “Healers!” he screamed a second time, hearing the rushed steps of guards coming closer. “Don't worry about a thing, we'll take care of you. Oh, Gods.” he gasped as he pressed a long kiss against his temple. Leonellus felt the Prince's tears touching his skin along with his lips.

*** * ***

Kawab swallowed and looked down as he saw the slave behind Ahkmenrah. That clearly didn't work out, did it? The Prince looked unlike himself, full of wrath and frustration, screaming and demanding to know who did it. His advisors looked confused by the reaction of a boy who has always been sweet and rather easy to please. Now, he confronted at them, inquisitive and willing to make them pay for such offense.

“Behave.” the Vizier said, holding Ahkmenrah's waist, to keep him from getting any closer to them and ruin his reputation. An overly passionate and violent Prince would make him look very much like Kahmunrah and lose the favor of those who thought that they needed a kinder ruler than the older brother.

“Who was it?!” he screamed. “Who tried to kill him?! Who sent a man to kill Leonellus?!” the red slave looked down and touched him, trying to hold him back along with Kawab. His arm was back in place but his shoulder hurt terribly. It would bruise badly and it would take weeks before he could move it properly again. They kept it tightly tied to his body to make sure he wouldn't move it more than necessary. “I can cast you out of Aaru if I want!” That was a serious threat. The Prince spoke for the Gods and therefore, he could keep them from having a second chance after death. “Who was it?!” And this time, he made a couple of his advisors flinch and look at each other, scared that they might be blamed for something they weren't responsible of.

“Enough of this.” Kawab forced him to get out of the room. Kahmunrah was in the corridor, peering at what was happening inside of the room. He stepped aside and said _nothing_ when Kawab walked away, making sure that Ahkmenrah wouldn't continue screaming and accusing at innocent men. Leonellus followed the both of them, still unable to react to the violence inflicted upon him. “You are acting unlike yourself.”

As they arrived to the Prince's chambers, he roared: “It's my lover who they wanted to kill, Kawab!” The tears came back to his eyes. “It was _me_ who had to stop him! How could anyone do something like that? Do they despise me? Enough to take the one I love away from me?!” He was still heated, he spoke quick and nervous. Leonellus looked down at his own feet. “I want them _gone_! All of them!” Of course, he could _never_ even toy with the idea of Kawab being behind something like this. Not when the man was honorable and little time shaken by the situation, no matter how tragic or devastating it could be. “And the body of that man...” Now the tears of anger rolled down his cheeks. “Disgrace it. Burn it. Cut it in small pieces and feed it to wild beasts. Throw it to the river. He will _not_ obtain peace after this.” His jaw was tight and Kawab sighed, patting his cheek tenderly. This wouldn't do, would it? Attacking the slave wouldn't work. It would only mutilate the Prince's kind spirit.

“You will have to calm down. We can do whatever you want with his body, but you need to trust your advisors.”

“They tried to kill my lover!” he repeated even louder. “I will never forgive them! I will never trust them!”

“You don't know that for sure.” Kawab calmly insisted. “Now, rest. Let me take care of this issue.” He could still handle this. Kahmunrah would never reveal the truth to his brother. He hated him too much to help him in any way. “The man responsible for this will pay. But you need to trust me.”

And since Ahkmenrah always trusted him and he was told by his parents and even Leonellus himself that he should follow his advice, Ahkmenrah swallowed his anger and nodded, sniffing lightly, feeling like he was taking the wrong choice, for some strange reason. “I want him to suffer, Kawab, as much as Leonellus did.”

“He will.” he sighed. This, sooner or later, will end up corrupting him as well. But Egypt couldn't fall. Not for a romance involving a Roman. Not for something as mundane as that. “Comfort His Majesty, will you?” he asked Leonellus without looking at him. As soon as he obtained a nod from the red slave, the Vizier squeezed the Prince's shoulder one last time before he walked out of the room.

“You don't have to comfort me.” Ahkmenrah whispered as he sat down over the bed. “It's me who has to comfort you.” he reached out and cupped Leonellus' cheek as soon as he joined him. “My love, you don't know how much it would hurt me if I was left here without you.” the Prince kissed his forehead and wrapped his other arm around him, careful and loving. “I need you. My spirit no longer knows how to be without you. I love you, I love you. _My treasure_.” And it was the love and not the cruelty what finally made Leonellus cry. Sob like a child and hold onto the Prince's cape, seeking comfort and safety in his arm.

Oh, this would _end_. What truly made him happy at last would _kill_ him.

He must be the Gods' favourite puppet to play with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Senet is one of the oldest known board games. Fragmentary boards that could be senet have been found in First Dynasty burials in Egypt, c. 3100 BC. A hieroglyph resembling a senet board appears in the tomb of Merknera (3300–2700 BC). Although details of the original game rules are a subject of some conjecture, senet historians Timothy Kendall and R. C. Bell have made their own reconstructions of the game. These rules are based on snippets of texts that span over a thousand years, over which time gameplay is likely to have changed. Therefore, it is unlikely these rules reflect the actual course of ancient Egyptian gameplay. Source: Wikipedia
> 
> 2 The Venus Throw was the highest roll in the Ancient Roman gambling game of tali (knucklebones). The game was played with four 4-sided rectangular dice numbered I, III, IV and VI, usually made from sheep’s or goat’s knucklebones. In a Venus Throw, each talus landed on a different side, yielding as a score of 14. A gambler would either throw the tali from his or her hand, or from a small box, (called a fritillus). Thirty-five different throws were possible. While the Venus throw was the highest, the Vulture throw (all aces) — also known as the Dog throw — was the lowest. The Venus throw could be used to designate the master of the revels. Souce: Wikipedia
> 
> 3 The Epagomenae: The Super-added Days. These were the five days at the end of the year added in order to bring the Egyptian calendar of 360 days in line with the solar year of 365. According to the myth, when Nut became pregnant by her brother Geb at the beginning of the world, it so enraged Ra (Atum) that he decreed she would not give birth on any day of the year. Thoth, however, played a game of senet with the moon god Iah (Khonsu) in which he gambled, and won, five day’s worth of moonlight. He took this moonlight and created the five “super-added days” which Nut could give birth in. Source: Ancient.eu
> 
> 4 Loosely inspired by the story of King Neferkare and General Sasenet. The original quote: “his majesty went into Sasenet’s house and did to him what his majesty desired”. The phrase “doing what one desires” is a common flowery phrase to describe sex. For this reason, some scholars are convinced, that the papyrus reveals king Pepi’s homosexual interests and his same-sex relationship to his general officer. Source: Wikipedia
> 
> 5 Those who drowned had to be buried by priests. No one was allowed to touch the body, not even friends or family. This comes from the similairity of the death of the God Osiris, and the ritual symbolizes something more sacred than taking care of the body of a human.


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are a Roman slave.” Leonellus held his hands behind his back and continued to observe him. This was hardly the first time he was told such, but now it hurt a little more because he craved, more than ever, to become human to their eyes. Just like he was to the Prince's. “And you will die as one.” That was not an omen, a threat. “Your love is young,” and so they were. Youth could push you towards sudden and irrational decisions. Kahmunrah couldn't see anything worth loving in that boy. Neither would Ahkmenrah with age. “but it will grow old.”  
> He wanted to hurt him. To make him doubt. Leonellus might be a slave, but that honor could only be obtained if he decided to give it to him. And he wasn't. “Then it will become wise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a bit more than planned but... Here it is!!  
> It gets a little violent and gruesome towards the end.  
> Sorry in advance, but you know. It's a tragedy.

His skin went from purple to green and now was fading with an ugly shade of dark yellow.

“Still hurts?” Ahkmenrah caringly asked, holding Leonellus' right arm as he helped him to raise it above his head. The slave winced and nodded, unable to keep the position for much longer; his muscles were aching and his hand was shaking. “We'll have to be a bit more patient.” the Prince sighed before he tilted his head up and kissed his forehead. “I'm sure that by the end of next week, you'll be just fine.” He offered him an optimistic smile as he helped him to lower his arm once more.

“Perhaps.” he didn't wish to have anything on his body that could remind him of that last attack. His neck was pale again, but each time Ahkmenrah touched it while they kissed, he flinched with the awful memory of lacking air. He couldn't imagine a worst fate: trying to breathe and being unable to.

Ahkmenrah massaged his shoulder gently with moist fingers. He looked at him with guilt and smiled in such an apologetic way. Once his wrath faded and he cried over the idea of losing Leonellus, Ahkmenrah practically begged for his forgiveness. Leonellus knew he was not responsible for anything so he let him know he had nothing to forgive. He still didn't look very convinced because Kawab didn't get to find out who attempted to kill him yet. The red slave wrapped his left arm around him.

Along with guilt came caution. Ahkmenrah was not going to leave him alone at any moment of the day. He left that quite clear to anyone that would request only his presence. Kawab finally granted his wish and made no comment when Leonellus showed up, silently walking behind the Prince, looking around like there was another invisible threat about to attack. But that didn't only extend to duty; Ahkmenrah even brought Leonellus along with him when he bathed. The Prince did the part of a body slave when he helped the Roman boy wash his body so he wouldn't have to endure pain while keeping himself clean. He didn't mind. It used to make him uncomfortable to see others serving him, but that was an act of love and care and Leonellus smiled tenderly at him while he did such. After scrubbing his body clean, the Prince often asked him to join him inside of the warm water, as they were now. It brought him peace to feel the body of the slave over his lap, so he could hide his face on his neck. That was the reassurance that he had him. And that no one would take him away from him. _Ever_.

“I love you.” he confessed, his voice muffled against his flesh.

“I know.” Leonellus replied soothingly, his fingers brushing the wet tangled locks of hair.

“ _I love you_.” he repeated once more, squeezing his eyes shut. That second time it sounded more like: _don't leave me alone_.

“I love you, too.” the slave rested his cheek over the crown of his hair. _I'll be by your side until life will be taken away from me_.

“When I become Pharaoh, I will release you from slavery. They will look at you and see the man you are. And they will also understand that you are loved by me and that _no one_ can harm you.” He will do it in front of his whole realm. They will all witness the devotion he had for his lover. No one will ever dare to hurt him again. He will show his cruel side and embrace the violence he despised if that implied keeping him. “Not as long as I live.” he promised.

Leonellus leaned back to look at him. He bit his lower lip gently and nudged his forehead with his own, soft and tender. He allowed himself to be hopeful. After the despair of almost dying, his spirit was desperate to hold onto something good. He will die, of course. Those had been warnings sent by the Gods so he got used to the idea. But maybe he will die as a free and loved man. Perhaps that was enough considering how miserable his life has been. “For my memory to be related to yours is the greater satisfaction I could ever be offered.” For his legacy to fade but to be mentioned as the one that Ahkmenrah loved once. That was enough for him. The testimony he existed and that he was someone who got to possess the Prince's heart for a while.

Ahkmenrah kissed him on the lips. All the kisses he was given after seeing death from so close tasted like a goodbye. All of them will until one of them finally becomes a farewell. Then, the Prince hugged him close, only wanting to feel his moist skin tight against his. There should be no space between them. No one should ever be able to slip between their bodies and keep them away from each other.

After the comfortable silence, Ahkmenrah let yet another of his worries show: “Father won't last much longer.” He only wished to join his beloved wife. He trusted that his son would be guided and looked after. Leonellus showed his support by caressing the back of his neck with his fingertips. The Prince sighed. “I wish he wouldn't have to die for me to rule. He is still my father.” Taking someone's place and accept it as an honor and the best day of his life while also mourning the loss of a father.

“I know, but you are being given time to accept it.” Unlike his mother, that was taken away from him a terrible morning. His father has been dimming ever since.

“I have no other choice.” Ahkmenrah replied. He tilted his head back so he could look up at the Roman boy. “I promise not to cry on your lap, this time.”

“I would comfort you no matter what.” Leonellus denied. “Your sadness couldn't never make me think any less of you.” He appreciated his trust. “I'll be there with you.” he promised.

But while Ahkmenrah refused to leave him behind and Leonellus swore to be with him during his father's passing, it was _sensible_ to allow only the Prince inside of Pharaoh's chambers when the end was unavoidable.

“I'm not going anywhere.” Leonellus promised while squeezing the Prince's hands. “Be with your father. Let him know how much you love him and how proud you'll make him.” he smiled reassuringly, not letting himself to be scared of loneliness. It would only take a moment. Nothing would happen to him. “Come on.” he whispered, tilting his head forward and resting his forehead against his. He accepted the kiss from the Prince even if they were in the corridor and some guards could see them. He needed it and Leonellus was willing to do anything for him.

“Give me strength.” he whispered with his eyes closed.

“You have it.” All of his strength was his to use. Leonellus caressed his cheek one last time before he stepped back. Kawab raised his chin, resting a hand over Ahkmenrah's back, guiding him inside of Pharaoh's chambers. Then, Leonellus stood close to the door and looked down at his feet. The three cats were there. Niveus laid over his sandals, purring and twisting around. Ater and Rubra stood on each side, _guarding_ him. He won't be hurt anymore. He wiggled his toes to play with Niveus and smiled slightly when the tabby cat meowed, demanding even more attention. Leonellus briefly looked around and crouched, scratching the cat's tummy. The cats made him feel _calm_. He knew that he would feel terrified if he was all by himself. That was something he always feared: complete and utter solitude. He felt a little bit like that when Kyrillos died. He knew that after the slave passed, he would never feel connected to anyone, as a person, anymore. And then... _Ahkmenrah_. The cats were the very symbol of their union. Leonellus was fond of them like they were children. That's why he cooed when even Ater, who was always the one who liked to explore the most, rubbed his head against his ankle. Rubra hissed when a shadow came closer to them. Leonellus stood up quickly; that peace he had faded away. He felt awfully uncomfortable when he saw that the one that decided to approach him was Kahmunrah. The slave barely shared a couple of moments with the older brother and he could tell he was _vicious_. Far more than Ahkmenrah wanted to admit.

Foolishly, Leonellus assumed that the man wanted to say goodbye to his father. Instead, he said: “You are changing my brother.” The red slave kept his silence. The man decided to keep going. His viper tongue dragged the words. He hissed in a way that made the Roman boy feel disgusted. “He was never violent, before.” And that was actually true. Kahmunrah stepped forward but Rubra arched her back and let a loud and warning noise: _back off_. Leonellus swallowed and tilted his head up. “How long until he becomes a follower of Set? A demon, a hideous man with passion for blood and cruelty? You did _sting_ him, didn't you? I know about Romans; they love battles.” Leonellus was well aware, but that abomination was created when Venus and Mars decided to lay together. Those invisible threads also shaped _bloodlust_. “How much is there left of my brother, _nekek_ [1]?”

That word he didn't understand. He never heard it before, but it surely couldn't be a compliment. Not when he forced it out of his mouth like poison. Leonellus looked at him and saw plenty. Kahmunrah was not worried about his brother. It was something else. He wanted to make him doubt. He wanted to insult the both of them: imply that Ahkmenrah was easy to corrupt and that he was manipulative. He was questioning their love and then, even if he knew he _shouldn't_ , Leonellus felt the urge to speak: “He saved my life. I don't see cruelty in his acts, only bravery.”

“Slaves speak about courage like the fish speak about flying.” snorted Kahmunrah, shaking his head. Leonellus licked his lips and refused to let that hurt him. Someday he will be a free man. Ahkmenrah promised and he trusted him _blindly_. “You are not one of us. We accepted you because that was the Gods' wish, but you will _never_ be one of us.” Starting from his sickly pale skin and ending in his mundane pantheon. “You are a Roman slave.” Leonellus held his hands behind his back and continued to observe him. This was hardly the first time he was told such, but now it hurt a little more because he craved, more than ever, to become human to their eyes. Just like he was to the Prince's. “And you will die as one.” That was not an omen, a _threat_. “Your love is young,” and so they were. Youth could push you towards sudden and irrational decisions. Kahmunrah couldn't see anything worth loving in that boy. Neither would Ahkmenrah with age. “but it will grow old.”

He wanted to hurt him. To make him doubt. Leonellus might be a slave, but that honor could only be obtained if he decided to give it to him. And he wasn't. “Then it will become wise.” His reply brought frustration to Kahmunrah's features. Leonellus felt victorious.

Then, the man stepped back and Rubra finally relaxed when it was clear that her owner wouldn't be attacked once again. “You are not worth the anger or the effort.” Kahmunrah said before he walked away from him, but also from his dying father.

*** * ***

Ahkmenrah barely cried when Pharaoh died.

He sat down by Leonellus' side and muttered: “Egypt is mine.” It _would_ be, after his father's burial and being crowned as Pharaoh. But now he was the one taking decisions. He was their ruler and that weight he would have to learn how to carry with grace and justice.

Leonellus laced their fingers together over Ahkmenrah's lap and brushed the back of his hand with his thumb. “They'll love you with devotion. They'll remember you for centuries to come.” He will do great things.

The doubt and fear was still clear in his eyes. Not that long ago, Ahkmenrah prayed to the Osiris to keep his father in good health. It would have been wise to plead to another deity less related to the realm of the dead. Still, among those two evident emotions, Leonellus could also find determination and strength in his grey eyes. He knew what he wanted to do. What he had to do to improve his realm and leave it to his heir better than when he received it. That should be the main ambition for any ruler. “I only wish to make their lives more fulfilling.” Leonellus smiled, not thinking he had to say that he did that with his. It was obvious. The Prince pressed his lips and nodded at the time that a tear rolled down his cheek. The slave wiped it and kissed his face.

“Lay down. Rest. You must look strong tomorrow.” They would have to bury the deceased Pharaoh. Leonellus would pray for him as he did when they buried the Great Royal Wife. The main difference between both events was the fact that Ahkmenrah was no longer a Prince. He was about to become their leader. He couldn't allow himself to show sadness. Not when it was a privilege to be the one to guide them. Ahkmenrah sighed and laid over the bed and Leonellus did the same, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing his shoulder. The young heir turned his head and pressed his forehead against the slave's and closed his eyes. Leonellus could see the moonlight reflecting over the thin tears on his cheeks. He cried in silence, accepting that it would take time before he would see his father again. But he couldn't blame him for giving up. In fact, Ahkmenrah understood him. If he lost Leonellus, he would also wither. “Sleep.” Leonellus whispered as he kissed his moist skin, caressing his chest with a soothing hand.

The following morning, Ahkmenrah looked a little bit tired but serene. He dressed with white, green and black; the colors of Osiris and Kemet. Death and the land of prosperity. Leonellus was not allowed to go with him, no matter how much Ahkmenrah argued with Kawab. They both understood it was not the proper time to delay the last goodbye offered to the deceased ruler. Ahkmenrah himself made the guards swear that no one would enter inside of his chambers and that they would constantly check on Leonellus to guarantee his safety. Perhaps he was becoming a bit paranoid, but after seeing a man suffocating his lover, he didn't feel like he was overreacting.

“You'll pray for me?” Ahkmenrah asked, cupping the Roman's cheeks.

“Of course.” Vesta wouldn't talk back to him, today. She told him what he had to do and he still followed her orders to this day. That didn't mean he wouldn't try to make himself be heard. The more he shows his love to the Goddess, the more she will appreciate it. The Gods are not talkative but they appreciate it when they feel _needed_.

The younger boy smiled and his eyes looked even more beautiful in contrast with the dark makeup. Leonellus kissed him and he accepted it gladly, slipping his tongue past his lips. When the slave squeezed the back of his neck, Ahkmenrah broke the kiss and promised: “Tonight is for you and me, only. Tomorrow I'll bring you with me so you can see my new clothes.” He wanted to be looked at by Leonellus both with desire and admiration. He wanted him to be the one that would get the first glimpse of him dressed as Pharaoh.

“Saturn is already voracious himself, let's not be hungry for what will come.” he caressed his arms. “Honor your father, I'll be right here.”

Ahkmenrah nodded, accepting his advice and kissing his lips one last time. He closed the doors himself after he offered a tender smile to his lover.

*** * ***

They buried Pharaoh and Kahmunrah didn't feel remorse for not talking to him before dying. He hoped that his father died with regret suffocating his throat for denying him the right he had ever since he was born and how he disgraced his mother's memory by marrying another woman after barely mourning her loss. He hoped that the last feeling he had before closing his eyes for good was _misery_.

But none of that mattered anymore. In the same way that he didn't feel remorse, he didn't feel joy either. Not like when he saw Shepseheret convulsing right before she died. He knew that his death implied _nothing_ , Ahkmenrah was still the one who would take his throne. He hated the way people looked at him, with hope and tenderness. Seeing that he was still young but with the promise of being honest and fair. He was taking his place. His birth was an offense to Kahmunrah. But he decided that instead of being jealous, he had to be clever. Ahkmenrah was the one that stood between him and his birth right, and that Kawab was no longer honest to him. Not when he turned to him to try to kill the slave even if their plan failed. Ahkmenrah was alone and he didn't even know it. Now it was his time to find the right words and plague the Vizier's mind with pure agony. And he decided to do so the following day after Pharaoh's burial, when Ahkmenrah was showing his vanity to his Roman boy while they tried on his new clothes. The very same ones in which he would be crowned and _killed_.

And the only one that could allow such fate to happen was _Kawab_.

“Have you ever considered my brother naming the slave his new Vizier?” he asked, eagerly following the older man around the corridors of the palace.

Kawab found himself surprised. Kahmunrah used to be a vicious child. Left behind and always trying to find sympathy through violence and confrontation. But sometimes he was cleverer than he gave him credit for. Kawab felt like it would be far too obvious if he lied. He always took pride in being an honest man.

“He is always around my brother. And the Gods know he loves him. My father and Ahkmenrah are very much the same.” And maybe that was yet another reason why he hated his little brother so much. “They are weak when it comes to love. When my father met Shepseheret, he forgot about everything. She was the only one that mattered. And she did until he died.” Since the woman was no longer around, life had no meaning. “Ahkmenrah will push you to the side, as my father did with me. He even sent away our former priests just because he claimed they tried to hurt him.” Kawab should stop him from insulting Ahkmenrah's actions. Kawab had the blood on his cape as an evidence of their offense towards the slave. And yet, he didn't. He kept listening. “And then, I saw how he threatened his advisors. What makes you believe you are any different? He will eventually find out that you were the one who told me t—”

“If you are going to threaten me, Kahmunrah, at least do it directly.” Kawab interrupted him, finally turning to face him.

“I am not.” he simply denied. “I am the only one who knows and I would _never_ tell him.” He would rather sit and observe how the doubt drove his brother insane. “But what is he going to think when it happens again? When the idea of the slave abandoning him becomes more and more unlikely? Those men were far too impressed of his reaction to do anything other than try to win his trust again.” He would want to say that they were even _scared_. Ahkmenrah's word would become law, and while he was sweet and kind, he had his moments of wrath for he was only human _no matter what_. “You can't try to kill the boy again. That will make our kingdom fall.” Kahmunrah stepped closer to him, still talking as Kawab looked down. “He will become sick without him. Like my father did with Shepseheret. You know that, it will corrupt him. Kill his spirit.”

Kawab saw that clear when he had to keep him away form those innocent advisors. _It wouldn't do_. He knew where Kahmunrah's arguments were going to lead him. Again, Kawab didn't stop him.

“But you can't let him live, either.” The Roman boy had his fangs on Ahkmenrah's heart. Boys raised by wolves, could they expect anything other than ruthless romance? “We will no longer live in Egypt if he does. We'll speak their tongue, shorten our years and worship their Gods. Our glory will fade as it already happened with many other countries. But unlike them, they will require no blood. Ahkmenrah will open the gates to the Romans just to satisfy his slave's melancholy.” And not only that, the chaos that will come with the public liberation of the slave. The boy _had_ to die. Sadly, so did Ahkmenrah for their land to remain as it is. “Should we fall without fighting? Should we fall for the love two boys have towards each other?”

“No.” Not for love. Not for _anything_.

“You understand what I am trying to say.” Kahmunrah whispered. His heart began to speed up; will he finally get what he always wanted?

“I do.” Kawab raised his eyes to look at him. “But I need an evidence.” He had to hold onto something. Allow himself to think he was fair when in reality, he only wanted an excuse. He already did that before sending the Arcadian to kill the boy. Kawab could barely recognize himself, but he hoped that the worst of him would die with those two boys. He cursed the day Nephi decided to bring the Roman to their land. He should have condemned him right away.

Kahmunrah had _nothing_ , but he wouldn't let that make him doubt. Not when he was so close. “I bet you only need to go to their room. Not many are allowed in there. There must be a reason why.” Kahmunrah reached out and squeezed Kawab's shoulder: _alliance_. He needed him for this. “Let me know when you make your decision.” he said before he forced himself to walk away. He shouldn't let himself look desperate. Not now that he was so close.

Kawab stood there for a couple of seconds before he headed towards the Prince's chambers. He allowed himself inside and noticed the only oil candle that was burning. The flame become way smaller as he went through the Prince's belongings, leaving everything back in place so his presence wouldn't be later noticed by either of them.

The only thing he found were Ahkmenrah's poems about Leonellus and then, a couple of papyrus the Roman boy used to translate from their language to his. Even if he could compare and see those were not Ahkmenrah's doing, he decided to believe that it was Leonellus who was teaching Ahkmenrah Latin, instead of the boy wanting to adapt as much as he could to their culture. His desperate mind forced him to hold onto that lie so the weight of his treason would become a little lighter. Anything for their land, no matter how horribly it could corrupt him.

Such a feeble evidence for such an atracious decision.

By the time Kawab walked out of their chambers, Leonellus entertained the cats with the light that reflected over the ground as he held and moved the bronze hand mirror around. Ahkmenrah was still trying his new clothes in the following room. The slave knew that he wanted to make an impression and obtain flattery, that's why it was taking him so long to reveal his royal attire. He failed to be irritated. In fact, his acts often made him smile, no matter how childish they could be. Leonellus sighed as he rested his chin over his knee, thinking about Kyrillos and how he would have reacted to the Prince... now future Pharaoh! Leonellus was always a well-behaved student, but he questioned himself what he would have done if his mentor would have advised him to stay away from him.

He wanted to believe that he would have liked him. That he would have seen the best in him and believed that he would let Leonellus be free. Niveus purred and turned his head to the side. The tabby cat was yet again requesting his care by laying on his back, by his side over the cushions. He scratched his stomach after feeling the dull ache on his shoulder.

“Are you ready to see me?” he heard Ahkmenrah's voice. He already sounded thrilled and desperate to show off.

Leonellus snickered and shook his head. _Foolish, foolish boy_. “I am ready to be delighted, His Majesty.” He smiled even wider as Ahkmenrah hummed, _clearly_ pleased. He rushed towards the following room and tilted his chin up as soon as he could be seen by the slave. Ahkmenrah even spun around and the skirt and his cape brushed over the ground. In that quick glimpse, he could notice that the sandals seemed to be made out of gold, matching his crown. Leonellus gasped and stood up. The three cats looked at him, feeling somehow betrayed that he was not going to entertain them any further. “That color fits you well.” He saw him mostly wearing white and a few details in green, black or even blue, when he went to Hathor's temple. Now, that bright orange and gold made the color of his skin warner. There weren't kings in Rome anymore, but Leonellus could tell for sure that none of them would have ever looked as good as Ahkmenrah did right now. The slave approached him and caressed the fabric of his cape, that now covered his shoulders and arms. The wesekh was bigger than the ones he usually wore, with three scarabs to protect him. Leonellus looked at him up and down and poked his stomach, naked, over the the golden belt. Ahkmenrah huffed, a little ticklish, and captured his hand with both of his. “Handsome.” he said what he desperately wanted to hear. It was an evidence. “You might as well be remembered for your beauty, Morning and Evening Star.” Leonellus teased with a happy smile on his lips and a sweet admiration shinning in his green eyes.

“Would you say then,” The slave was already biting his lips when Ahkmenrah spoke. He looked so smug. “that I am the most handsome man you _ever_ saw?”

“You are the only one I ever saw that was clothed by the Sun and crowned by the Gods.” he held his hands and squeezed them. “You _must_ be.”

Ahkmenrah raised his head once more, now arrogant for sure. Leonellus kissed his chin. The soon to be Pharaoh rubbed the tip of his nose against Leonellus', making the Roman boy grin. “Not a crown, though.” he explained. “ _Sekhemty_.” He said allowing Leonellus to repeat it after him a couple of times. He nodded and wrapped his arms around his waist. “It's not usually made out of gold, but I thought...” he shrugged with one shoulder. “ _Why not?_ ” He wanted to look his best. _Regal_. And yes, he wanted to be as attractive as possible to Leonellus.

“Why being humble when you are Pharaoh?” Leonellus teased, still happy and amused.

“I mean, exactly.” Ahkmenrah joked back, rolling his eyes.

“Ridiculous boy.” he shook his head.

“Not a boy! Pharaoh!” he insisted. “The most handsome man you've ever seen. The man... _Well_.” he paused. “The man you will crave and beg to touch and kiss after he is named Pharaoh in front of his land.”

“Will I beg in front of his land, too?” the red slave was still toying with him.

“No, turns out that Romans are very shy and obsessed with privacy.” Ahkmenrah got the wrong impression, but since Leonellus didn't want to expose himself while being a slave, he didn't quite correct him. Maybe that would change when he would become a free man. The one known for being Pharaoh's lover. That made him giddy like a foolish boy. “But I would gladly kiss you in front of a crowd.”

Leonellus looked away and then bumped his forehead against his shoulder. How not to feel joy when he implied that he was far from ashamed of showing the love he had for him to his realm? Ahkmenrah cupped the back of his neck and kissed the crown of his head, oblivious to everything that was happening behind his back, convinced that they would be happy for many decades to come.

“I want to show you something more.” Ahkmenrah said, stepping back. “Something for you.”

“I don't want any clothes.” Leonellus rushed to say. Gifts were still _strange_.

“Not clothes.” he shook his head. But he would get him some, in the future. He couldn't let him walk around like that, could he? His lover should be spoiled so they will understand how important he is to him. “Something that already belongs to you, but that you don't have, yet.” The redhead tilted his head, confused, before Ahkmenrah kissed his forehead and stepped back. “I'll be right back.”

Nothing belonged to him. Everything that a slave had, was given by those who were responsible for them. Not because they earned it or because they had the right to possess anything. He continued to frown, thinking while the cats gathered around his feet. They assumed that if Ahkmenrah was no longer around, that they would get the attention they were enjoying before the future Pharaoh arrived. But they meowed and complained when he was back, bringing a small chest made of bronze with him.

“Open it.” Ahkmenrah urged him with a wide smile on his lips. Leonellus arched an eyebrow. “Come on, it's something good!”

“If it's a jewel...” the Roman began and the younger boy only let out a dismissive noise. Leonellus sighed and opened the chest. He was very careful when he took the figurine that was inside of it with both of his hands. He brushed his thumbs over the surface: it was bright red, made out of clay, he assumed. The little man had his arms crossed over his chest, with his eyes wide open. “Mhmm...” How was this his in any sort of way?

“Remember when I told you about the ushebti in my father's tomb?” Ahkmenrah explained as left the chest on floor. Rubra jumped inside of it. _Hers_.

Leonellus nodded: “The ones who answer.” Another name for slaves.

“Well, there isn't really a ritual to release a slave so I thought I would figure out something symbolic.” It made sense. The ushebti were grave goods that represented the ones that would serve in the other life. Leonellus would own himself; during life and after it. “Something that would let them understand that you'll no longer be a slave as soon as I rule.” After a small silence, Ahkmenrah added: “Also it's red because so are you and I thought it would make sense.”

Leonellus looked up at him. He still held the little figurine and now it was the most precious object he ever touched. This was very different from he always dreamed it would be. He wouldn't be touched by with vindicta and given a pileus. Neither it was Parvus who would release him from slavery. He tried to speak but nothing came out. He held the figurine close to his chest; his eyes were shiny. This was going to become a reality. His dream. His sweetest dream was about to become true.

Ahkmenrah blinked and cupped his cheeks with his caring hands. “I didn't mean to make you sad.” Leonellus shook his head, smiling. He wasn't sad. This was the happiest he has ever been. Not only _hopeful_. “We can do it as fast as you want. Right after I'm crown—”

“Enjoy your day.” Leonellus could finally answer before taking a deep breath. “You well deserve it. Your kind spirit must be celebrated.” Ahkmenrah embraced him again. “Mine can come after it.”

What's a couple of days compared to _years_? The world won't end tomorrow. Leonellus refused to be eager about something that would _finally_ happen.

*** * ***

It was the very first time Leonellus experienced such pride. He was far from being the protagonist, but the thrill in Ahkmenrah's smile and the excitement in his eyes made him feel touched that he ever got to be part of his life. What first seemed to be a nightmare and injustice, eventually ended up becoming the beginning of quite an adventure. And all thanks to him and his kindness. Any other in his position could have tortured him, body and soul, without anyone caring. Still, Ahkmenrah decided to be gentle and friendly towards a stranger. Many could learn from him. Leonellus played with his hands and observed among the crowd; like any other member of that realm.

Pharaoh sat on his throne. Not the one that used to belong to his father, but that one that was rightfully his. And from that spot, he could see them all. He will have a good impact on their lives. He will look after them and be fair. He will prove himself worthy of the trust he was given. “Ahkmenrah I The Young, Fourth King of the Four Kings.” The fourth to rule in their dynasty and far from being the last one. He might never have heirs himself, but the lineage will continue with Kahmunrah's children. Like that, he will return the chance that was taken away from his brother. Ahkmenrah felt like it was the proper thing to do. Any father would rather favor his children than himself. “He of the Two Ladies[2], enduring in Kingship like Ra in the Sky.” Kawab kept his eyes on the boy, with a small smile over his lips. That title would become a bad omen. Not many will want to use it after what would happen. “Divine of appearance.” And at that Leonellus could only agree. In appearance and spirit. He yet had to meet another man that could resemble Pharaoh. The Gods made him with their own fingers. Venus giggled close to his ear and this time he failed to be irritated by the Goddess. “He of Sedge and Bee[3].” The sekhemty was placed over his head and Leonellus could even feel the admiration they had towards him. They could see it too, couldn't they? That the boy was a gift from above. That such kindness had to be guarded and protected. The red slave bit his lower lip and smiled even wider as Pharaoh's eyes found him among his people. “Son of Ra, Ruler of the Land of his Father, Merenkahre III The Great.”

And those were his titles as the new Pharaoh. The applause that followed was of pure bliss and excitement. They waited for him and now that they had him, they couldn't possibly believe their luck. Leonellus could understand that feeling perfectly. He observed and he loved to see the affection and respect they had for him. Leonellus could never _dream_ to be looked at like that, but for some reason, it felt like it was enough. He wanted them to love him and cherish him. He would live for many years and Leonellus wouldn't. They had to love him until the very end for him.

They all wanted to talk to him and they _did_. It took hours before Leonellus could approach him again, but he didn't mind. Not today. Observe him from his quiet spot made him happy. Made him feel like that was a sight he would witness from wherever he would be taken after life. He no longer knew if he would find Pluto or Osiris in the land of the dead, but that wasn't important anymore. His ephemeral life didn't worry him. Not today. Not when getting to witness his glory tasted like a personal success. This had to be love —to care even more about someone's joy than your own— and Leonellus felt lucky that he got to experience it. It was like he was slowly making amends with his terrible fate. With the constant fear that let him have a moment of peace and that would, undoubtedly, be back.

Ahkmenrah's grey eyes tried to find him among the crowd and as soon as he did, he raised and eyebrows and made a slight gesture with his hand, an invitation: _Come to me?_

Leonellus obeyed.

First, Pharaoh held his hands and then his body with his caring and loving arms. The Roman boy allowed him to show his care and tenderness towards him. Kawab was giving Ahkmenrah some space to act freely. That must mean he was behaving properly for once. Leonellus closed his eyes and tilted his head towards his, getting his smell and feeling the rich and soft fabric of his new attire. This had to be the happiest day of his life. Even more than their first kiss or their first night together. This felt even far more intimate while happening in a throne room crowded with people who observed them. He didn't want to turn and deal with judgment. Funny enough, no one thought it was so unfitting for Pharaoh to be fond of the strange slave that was brought to their land. All of their former rulers had something that made them _peculiar_. It was better to deal with a Pharaoh that would enjoy hugging his Fan-Bearer than one that would enjoy mutilating servants just for fun.

Ahkmenrah leaned his head heavily against Leonellus and held him even tighter. He breathed and the slave could tell that their love was just as overwhelming for him. Not many could live with such overpowering feeling that kept expanding inside of your chest. Men are fragile. In that very moment Leonellus was sure that only the Gods would be able to experience love at its fullest. As it was supposed to. They, as mortals, only got a taste of it, for it would exhaust them to death to savor it competely.

“Would you deny Pharaoh a kiss?” Ahkmenrah asked, his voice muffled against his neck.

Leonellus sighed. If everything goes as planned, tomorrow he will be a free man. And people will respect him as such. Therefore, there shouldn't be any trouble, right? He will be right by his side and he will be protected. And tomorrow, his life will change forever. From the way they see him to the way they will adress him. To be publicly known for his real name made him feel _thrilled_.

“Never.” Leonellus answered and could see how the face of Pharaoh lit up. How to deny him anything? The red slave smiled as he kissed his lips, cupping his face with his hand like that could keep those in the room from seeing what was happening in front of the throne, at the very top of the stairs. Leonellus cupped his hand and laced their fingers together over his cheek, feeling free for a little while. Free to be and to love.

And hearing Ahkmenrah whispering: “I love you.” after it, was the culmination. His mouth was sweet and his eyes were gentle. He could die from this.

“I know.” he nodded. Ahkmenrah wouldn't let him doubt or forget.

“I will build an entire city for you.” he promised, resting his forehead against his.

Leonellus snickered and denied. _A city_. That was pure nonsense. “You don't have to.” he patted his chest. Ahkmenrah held his hand with both of his.

“I will,” he insisted. “so they will remember your name and how much you were loved by me.” Only a temple wouldn't do. It would be nothing compared to the love he felt for the redhead. He didn't want people to forget his name. Something as basic as that. And how he become the most important person he had in his life.

The eldest shook his head one last time, not even allowing himself to think about it and become vain. He won't let him do it. He had his tricks to change his mind. Thankfully, Ahkmenrah didn't insist on the matter and instead, he made Leonellus sit down with him and ask a couple of servants to bring the cats. He wanted them to be part of his celebration.

And then, they danced and drank. And everybody was happy for him. He saw Kahmunrah's children playing with other kids and petting the cats. He saw his brother speaking with Kawab, but both of them were there and it meant a lot to him. When the Vizier smiled briefly at him, Ahkmenrah smiled back, wide and sincere. He didn't try to speak to him at any moment after the coronation. Pharaoh assumed that he was finally learning and that Kawab could see and appreciate that, as well.

*** * ***

Leonellus was _exhausted_. The Sun began to raise when they walked towards Ahkmenrah's chambers. The celebration was never-ending and there was always someone willing to talk to Pharaoh and give him their blessings. Leonellus found it entertaining to see his beloved smile like a proud child, but enough was enough. Ahkmenrah looked as tired as he did, leaning against him with his arm wrapped around his shoulders. He kept promising that even if Khonsu was no longer ruiling in the sky, that he would make love to him before falling asleep. _I have to, I'm Pharaoh_ , he kept saying.

His heavy eyelids let Leonellus understand that he was far too tired to make that last effort. Not to mention the fact that perhaps he enjoyed a bit more wine that he could handle and that's why he was needing his help to keep walking.

He didn't need to force himself, they will have time tomorrow. But one last distraction was coming their way before they would get on the bed.

“ _Leonellus_.”

Someone called his name and he couldn't help but feel nervous. Excited but keeping in mind what happened the last time that someone that wasn't Ahkmenrah called him such. He still stopped and turned in the best way that he could while still helping Pharaoh to keep walking.

“Kawab!” Ahkmenrah sighed with a smile. “Are you pleased? I tried to do my best, today! You need to have faith in me. I know I can do great things!” he rushed to say, seeking approval.

The Vizier smiled and nodded. “Excellent.”

“That makes me happy.” he rested his head against Leonellus', who complained slightly. Ahkmenrah was clearly not used to wearing such ornament on his head.

“I would like to speak to Leonellus, if that's not an inconvenience.” Kawab continued. “I feel like there's plenty I need to apologize for.”

The slave blinked, somehow surprised. He never felt insulted by anything that he did. He understood his position.

“Now?” Pharaoh whined. “We have... _something_ we need to take care of. In our _bedroom_.”

Leonellus knew that it was not going to happen. He wouldn't allow it. Ahkmenrah should rest for a couple of hours before starting the new day once again. And Kawab must be as tired as he was. He sure looked a little distracted and the situation was strange enough. The slave would let him know that there was nothing to forgive and then _sleep_.

“Why don't you wait for me there?” Leonellus suggested, touching his back.

Pharaoh grumbled and stepped back. “ _Fine_.” he said, clearly reluctant. Only because he thought that resting on the bed for a little while would give him the right amount of energy necessary to accomplish his final deed. He cupped Leonellus' chin and made him turn his head so he would look at him. When he obtained a small smile from the slave, he kissed his lips: slow and delicate. Leonellus didn't reject him and Kawab looked down to offer them some privacy. Ahkmenrah touched his lips with his tongue and brushed his thumb over his chin before he broke the kiss: “I love you.” He breathed with so much truth in his voice.

“I love you.” Leonellus tenderly whispered back. Just a few hours more and he will be a free man and yet, he was already acting like one. He couldn't help himself.

“I'll be waiting.” Ahkmenrah kissed his forehead before he walked towards his chambers, humming to himself and swaying slightly. The cats that had been following them decided to stay with the slave, considering he was the one in need of protection.

Once he couldn't see Pharaoh anymore, Leonellus smiled briefly and looked at the Vizier. “You don't have to apologize to me. I never felt offended by anything that you said.” And if he did, he didn't hold it as a grudge. Perhaps that would change starting tomorrow: allowing himself to love himself enough to be mad at others for hurting or offending him. So many things left to discover with a new identity and status.

This was the very second time the slave spoke to him. Before that, he only mentioned that he could speak their tongue. Other than that, the boy become silent and that isolation was the one responsible for so many misunderstandings.

“I still feel like I should explain myself to you, Leonellus.” This didn't come from a kind place from his heart. Kawab still saw the boy as an enemy, as any other Roman. It didn't matter he was loved by Ahkmenrah. Their love only brought the former Prince damnation as he was entering inside of his chambers. Kawab would miss him, but he would rather live without the boy than without his land.

“I understand that my presence here made everything more complicated for you. You acted accordingly.” As a someone who grew up in a republic, he couldn't even start to imagine how complicated royal matters could be. But he understood that not all of them would have good intentions in the same way that Tarquinius'[4] great offense was the one responsible to abolish monarchy in his own land. Leonellus was attacked even three times, and the Vizier was trying to find out who was the one responsible for the last one. Through that promise, he assumed that he wanted to keep him alive, even if it was for Ahkmenrah's entertainment. Young and naïve as he was, he appreciated Kawab's act.

“It did.” Kawab smiled briefly. “But I heard that things might change for you, soon.”

“They might.” Leonellus bit his lower lip gingerly, looking down. The idea of becoming a man with rights made him both excited and scared like a child.

From that answer, Kawab understood that he was doing the right thing. Egypt could not go through such an important transition when Ahkmenrah barely had any experience at ruling. They had to protect their home. They shouldn't risk it for anyone. No matter how loved and how much they will mourn the loss of the new Pharaoh.

“Were you born a slave?” Kawab asked, making some time. This was the very first time they spoke _properly_. Any other interaction they had was Kawab telling him how he was supposed to act and Leonellus obeying his commands. The red slave was, still, a bit of a mystery.

“I don't think I was, but I don't remember.” Leonellus denied, feeling Niveus rubbing his head against his shin, comfortingly.

“What are you going to do, when you become a free man?” the Vizier insisted. He couldn't even imagine the dreams a slave could have about freedom. He always had it.

“I won't...” he licked his lips. “I have no plans on becoming what you fear.” Leonellus wanted to leave that very clear. He didn't want to manipulate or take advantage of his relationship with Pharaoh. “And if he has to marry at some point...” his voice wavered. “I would understand.” That was way ahead in the future. That worry would never come but in that moment, when life seemed to last perhaps a few years more for the slave, it could be quite a reality. “And I wouldn't object.”

Kawab sighed tiredly. “He wouldn't do that, he loves you.” And it was not like he could ever convince him before he even arrived to their land.

Leonellus nodded slightly. Pharaoh was stubborn and childish, sometimes. It would take a while to turn him into a perfect ruler, but he was honest and fair and therefore, better than many vicious snakes hungry for power. “I love him, too. That's why I wouldn't allow him to ruin his own future for me.” Again, he knew he wouldn't grow old with Ahkmenrah. He would die before him, when people would get sick and tired of him standing in the way and too close to Pharaoh. “He's young. He will live for many decades and I don't want to keep him from doing what's right.” he licked his lips and looked gingerly at Kawab. “He suffered a lot when he lost his mother. He handled it way better when his father died, but he is still young in need of someone he can trust blindly.” And after the accident with the Arcadian, it was clear that he wouldn't rely on his advisors for a very long time. “It has to be you who makes him understand what's best for this country. No one else can do that job. You are the eyes that can see past fear and confusion.”

Those words made his heart become heavier; no longer light as a feather. The heart of a criminal. Kawab felt a spark of guilt that he tried to ignore. He nodded briefly. “I will try my best.”

“Your best will be enough. I might not know much about you,” because neither of them ever did anything for that to change. “but he admires you like a son would with his father.” And he could tell because Leonellus admired Kyrillos with the same trust and conviction. Any question could be asked and solved by a kind mentor.

“ _Right_.” Kawab cleared his throat and Leonellus understood he was crossing the line. It shouldn't be complicated to remember his place for a few hours more.

“I will take a step back. It would honor me to become part of this country and help in any way that I can. It's you who must be by his side at any moment while taking important decisions, not me. In the end, I'm just barely starting to learn the language _properly_.” And that confirmed the suspicion that it was not Ahkmenrah who was learning Leonellus' language, the complete opposite. His heart would sink heavy like iron, but now it was too late. The slave nodded one last time after obtaining silence. “You must be as tired as I am. We can continue talking tomorrow. Thank for this. It means a lot to me.” The Roman didn't try to touch him but nodded and offered him a smile that Kawab knew he didn't deserve.

As Leonellus walked away and the cats followed him, the Vizier understood why he never felt guilt for wanting to get rid of him, before. He never looked at him like he was a living being, just a _nuisance_. Wasn't that absolutely stupid? Weren't they _all_ just as human, in a way? Made out of flesh? Did they have to bed granted freedom for that to change? For life to matter?

Probably not, but none of that mattered anymore, for his actions now would bring fatal consequences. He could only wait until he would hear the boy cry and beg for help. He cleared his throat and raised his chin, containing himself. The Gods will never allow him to pass the divine threshold and spend the rest of his life in Aaru.

Leonellus thought it was strange that no guards were in front of the door, but maybe Ahkmenrah sent them away thinking that they would _truly_ make love and that Leonellus was embarrassed of being heard. He shook his head fondly and opened the door, allowing the cats to get inside of before he did.

“Are you still awake? You promised you'd wait for me.” he hummed as he closed the door. Ahkmenrah didn't answer and he knew he was sleeping. _Silly boy_ , Leonellus couldn't help but think, so fondly. He turned around and removed his sandals, ready to join him on the bed bathed by the first rays of Sun and sleep with him.

The Gods wanted him to see that Vesta's flame —the one he promised to tend for protection— was no longer burning before he noticed the tragedy that took place inside of their chambers.

His heart stopped and the floor under the soles of his feet became even colder than it should be. The cats cried and Leonellus almost fell to the ground when he saw the body of Pharaoh, facing down with his eyes wide open and his beautiful cape covered with blood. For a second his voice didn't even come out, nor did the tears. His heart was brought back to a meaningless life, racing and forcing him to act. He rushed towards him and turned him around, patting his cheek. His eyes didn't glow with kindness anymore. Nor they were looking at any feature of his face. The blood made his beautiful teeth look pink and his lower lip was soaked with blood. “Ahkmenrah.” He whimpered as his blood drenched his clothes and his hands, making everything feel warm and slippery. Pharaoh was stabbed to death; over and over again, obtaining a violence and cruelty _no one_ deserved. “Ahkmenrah!” he shook him, making a pathetic attempt to force him to stay with him. “No, no. No, please, Gods, no. Not him.” Leonellus choked and more tears fell down his face. It was him the one that had to die. Not Pharaoh. Not him who was kind and important. Not him, who had the power and the love of his people. Nor him, who made his life finally worth living. “Please, please!” he bowed his head forward, resting his forehead over his. “Please, please. Return him to me. Please.” he sobbed, cupping his face and kissing his lips: still warm, but far from kissing him back. When he saw the cats over the bed, looking at him and understanding that it was _over_ , something deep inside of him pushed him to keep trying. He _wasn't_ gone. He _couldn't_ be gone. “Help!” he screamed, from the top of his lungs, desperate and miserable. “ _Help_!”

But the corridor was quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 A male that takes the passive role during sex.
> 
> 2 In Ancient Egyptian texts, the “Two Ladies” was a religious euphemism for the goddesses Wadjet and Nekhbet, two deities who were patrons of the Ancient Egyptians and worshiped by all after the unification of its two parts, Lower Egypt, and Upper Egypt. Source: Wikipedia
> 
> 3 The term “of the Sedge and Bee” is written by the hieroglyphs representing a sedge, representing Upper Egypt and a bee, representing Lower Egypt. Source: Wikipedia
> 
> 4 According to Roman tradition, Lucretia was a noblewoman in ancient Rome whose rape by Sextus Tarquinius (Tarquin), an Etruscan king’s son, was the cause of a rebellion that overthrew the Roman monarchy and led to the transition of Roman government from a kingdom to a republic. Source: Wikipedia


	11. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are going to die.” And that didn't obtain any reaction from the slave. “But you'll be allowed to see the Sun for the last time.” That was going to be a public execution, a humilliation and an insult his brother's memory and making him look like a guillible man. Like he could have brought them damnation with his naivety. “You should be satisfied.”  
> “I live the night that never ends.” Leonellus finally spoke. Even his voice sounded defeated. What could he do, all alone, in a strange land? Only wait. Wait to see Ahkmenrah's smile, until then... He held the scarab a little tighter. Give me strength. “I have no hope; I lost my Sun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit shorter than the previous ones because it's mostly an epilogue. And because everything is very unfair and quite sad and I didn't want to stretch this forever, honestly.  
> I'm quite satisfied with this story, I've been wanting to write one with a sad ending for a while and I know, I know! No sense of satisfaction after reading this in the slightest, but as you can see, this is the first part of a series. Another one will come in a few months, when I get to start plotting it and all... It will be a crossover between Night at the Museum and The Pacific, so... Let me do things right in that second part, okay??
> 
> Until then, I hope you will enjoy this (if possible). Thank you so so SO much for reading! :D

Leonellus kept begging for help, but no one came. The cats meowed and approached him, trying to provide a comfort to be able to accept the tragedy. The body of Pharaoh was heavy. The slave never held anything that was so unbearably heavy. His shoulder hurt and threatened to pop out of place again, but he still cried and screamed for anyone to come, keeping his face close to his, as if that useless gesture could return him back to the realm of the living. He cupped his cheek and pressed his forehead against his temple, feeling his hair against his skin. The sekhemty became the most gruesome sight he ever saw now over the ground and with some stains of blood.

“Don't leave me here without you.” Leonellus pleaded, whimpering. His own despair choked him. “ _Please, please_.” he sobbed before he looked over his shoulder. _Nothing_. Not a single thing could be heard from the corridor. “You'll be fine.” Leonellus refused to accept the truth. He was going to believe he was alive until the Gods would mend their mistake. “I'll get you some help.” Leonellus used all of his strength to lay Ahkmenrah over his stomach, so he wouldn't hurt his back. As if that gesture could save him any suffering. Leonellus ran towards the door and frantically moved around the corridor. “Help!” he roared. “Healers! Please, help!” They came when Ahkmenrah asked for them when he was attacked. They should come now, it was not for him. “Pharaoh is hurt!” he insisted. There was the difference: if it was Pharaoh who needed help, it would be provided.

The first one to appear was Kawab, since he just spoke to him minutes ago. It was like Leonellus saw a miracle becoming true. Like the man became a deity that could undo the tragedy.

“Pharaoh is hurt.” he breathed before he ran towards him, grabbing his clothes. This time he didn't care about being a slave. He was not supposed to touch any of them, for he was way beneath them. But none of that mattered when Ahkmenrah's life was in danger. “Pharaoh is hurt, we have to help him.” In Leonellus' mind, it was not too late, but the blood soaking his clothes and his arms left very clear that there was nothing left to do.

Ahkmenrah was dead. He was killed and Kawab allowed such thing to happen; kept Leonellus away from him so the murder could take place, as the first step towards a bigger and more devastating ending. The blood smeared over the boy's neck and the tears that kept streaming down his cheeks made him feel guilty, for he was. Kawab felt the need to mourn, but he had no right to feel sadness over something that happened thanks to him.

Leonellus was so shaken that he didn't even have the time to notice how passive the Vizier was. He didn't even notice how he was covered in blood practically from head to toe. It was hard to tell if Sekhmet would have been proud of him, but surely it would help people to understand why she chose him: vicious of nature, desperate for the blood of the kind Pharaoh. The slave would be nothing but a murderer to many.

The boy turned around with wobbly knees, panting loudly and rushed towards back inside of Pharaoh's chambers, assuming that Kawab would follow after him. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to not lose composure as soon as he would see the corpse of the boy he looked after for many years. If things had been any different. If he could had only seen the problem as it was and not let it overwhelm him... He was once a fair man. What happened to him?

“He has been stabbed. He needs help.” Leonellus sobbed as Kawab entered inside of the room. The scent of blood was overwhelming. The cats observed him, guarding Leonellus, as if they now knew what he did. Kawab swallowed thickly when he saw the slave discovering Pharaoh's back, brushing the cape aside. No one could survive that, no matter how much he was loved by the Gods. The sunlight made the blood look bright red, very much like Leonellus' hair. The boy whimpered and touched the mauled back and insisted, in complete denial: “We need to act quickly.” The violence of his murder made Kawab look down and cover his face with a hand. How could he ever allow this to happen? His head began to spin and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. “Please!” Leonellus raised his voice and pleaded when he noticed that the man was not doing _anything_.

But before he could even stand up and try to reach out for him again, he heard more people approaching the room. _The healers, at last!_

Leonellus was about to thank them for coming, but not one of those men looked like they were going to help Ahkmenrah. The one in front of them was Kahmunrah, with excitement in his eyes. Behind him, the guards were far from amicable.

“You didn't stop until there was nothing left of my brother, did you?” Kahmunrah said, hissing as usual. There was pure victory in the way he stood; so tall and way above the corpse of his brother. He got exactly what he wanted and the shadow of guilt will never fall over his reign. The perfect plan. “How could you do this to him, when he trusted you, body and soul?”

“What...?” Leonellus asked a little lost, blinking and with his tender hands still over the wounds, hoping that would help. Pharaoh was pale with all the blood he already lost.

“You killed my brother, slave.” Kahmunrah accused him, stepping forward. Leonellus recoiled, wrapping his arms around Ahkmenrah. They were going to take him away from him. This was going to be the last time he will ever get to touch him and Leonellus was not ready to live without him.

“I did not!” he shook his head and quickly pressed many kisses to the back of Pharaoh's head before Kahmunrah grabbed the back of his tunic and tried to pry him away from the body. “We can still help him! Please, call the healers!” he cried, desperate, as a couple of guards helped Kahmunrah to get him away from Pharaoh. They threw him to the ground and kicked him when he attempted to crawl back to the bed. The cats hissed and stood in the way, to protect the innocent boy that was now seen as the lowest scum that ever stepped inside of the palace. Someone who was vicious and cruel enough to kill someone like their former Prince, who was kind and even loving towards him. _Romans_.

“He's dead.” Kahmunrah didn't even consider the chance that his brother could still be alive. He made sure he was dead by the time he left his chambers. “You killed him.”

“No!” he gasped and denied once again; more tears came from his eyes. The offense that accusation implied was too great for him to bear. “I love him!” he blurted out, before he could help himself.

“You have the guts to lie to me while being covered in my brother's blood, slave?” Kahmunrah took a step forward, pointing at him with a finger.

Leonellus finally looked down at his arms and clothes and the view forced a miserable noise from his throat. He couldn't be dead. It was not supposed to be him. He was meant to live and rule for years. He choked on his rushed breathing and then looked up. The light crimson shade over Kahmunrah's fingers and the blood he didn't have time to wash from under his nails revealed the truth.

“You...” he whispered. Shepseheret warned him. To see the bad so Ahkmenrah could keep seeing the good. Leonellus could tell that the older brother was vicious, but in his mind, no one could be despicable enough to ever try to hurt Pharaoh. “You.” he raised his voice, feeling a wave of hopeless anger. “It was you!” he screamed before he stood up. What could he do, thin and weak as he was, against a man that could throw him to the ground with one hand? Not much. The guards kept him from touching him, using the blunt end of their spear and harming the ribs of the slave. He wrapped his arms around himself, to contain the pain, and continued to say: “It was you.”

“Take him away. The cats too.” Kahmunrah grumbled, kicking Rubra away when she tried to bite him.

Before the guards could reach him, Leonellus dragged himself towards Kawab and grabbed his arms. He used to him to be able to stand up as the Vizier tried to step back. The slave wouldn't let him, crying and looking at his face, nervously. “You have to believe me. It wasn't me. It was him. Look at his hands!” Kahmunrah could easily dismiss that accusation. Leonellus was, after all, still a slave. And as he promised, he would also die as one. “ _Please_!” he begged over and over again, before Kawab finally looked at him. The regret and guilt in the older man's eyes said it all. “...You too?” he breathed. Was he aware of this? That's the only reason why he wanted to speak to him? To distract him? His apology meant _nothing_? Vizier made a move to the guards, so they would step in. As much as he regretted this, now it was mandatory for him to keep his position as Vizier. That last betrayal broke Leonellus' heart. He told Ahkmenrah to trust Kawab through and through. While he always considered a rather clever boy, he lacked the experience that came with age. That, sadly, would never come.

Leonellus wailed and as he was taken away.

*** * ***

They took him back to the small chamber he was given when he first arrived to the palace. Leonellus wished it was plagued with snakes so they could fill his body with poison. They pushed him to the ground and he didn't try to stand up anymore. The cats stayed close to him as he continued to cry, hearing the ruckus behind the locked door. There was yet another celebration, this time to crown another Pharaoh that could never imagine to compete with the life that was taken away. No man would ever match Ahkmenrah's greatness and kindness. No man could ever dream to be as worthy of the Sun as his shadow.

Leonellus cried and cried for hours, until he lost his voice. And when the sadness became quiet, it was even far more unbearable. He had nothing left to live for, but they wouldn't let him, would they? He hoped not. He had nothing left to see or experience. Life was meaningless without Ahkmenrah. Now he had and was nothing. Did Kyrillos lie to him when he told him he would be happy? That he would die as a free man? Did he lie so he found the strength to carry on? Who would want to stay alive just to suffer?

Away from that little room that was now a provisional cell, Kawab still refused to cry. He didn't participate in Kahmunrah's celebration and reacted in the best way possible considering his monstruous indifference. He refused to look at Ahkmenrah's corpse as it was taken away by the embalmers. The slave would die today. Kahmunrah wanted to do it publicly so everybody would understand who was the killer and so he would never have to deal with any sort of doubt. Also, it would almost prove him as a kind brother to want to get revenge for Ahkmenrah's murder. But that would be far from the truth. Kahmunrah was going to disgrace Ahkmenrah's body so he would never get to Aaru and that, he couldn't accept. He promised the former Pharaoh that he would make sure that his son would be buried properly. And so he would, even if that would be his very last deed as Vizier. The execution of the slave would give them the necessary time to send the body away so Kahmunrah would never find it.

He was quiet and calm when Kahmunrah requested his presence. He said that he wanted to get rid of the slave as fast as possible. Barely four hours passed since the death of Ahkmenrah and now they were about to end the life of the slave. That had to be the saddest day he ever lived but again, he didn't try to stop it. He needed the time and the distraction. Ahkmenrah was more important dead than a living slave boy. It was simply how it was.

“I'm going to take him to the river.” Kahmunrah sentenced, allowing no room for arguments.

“Sounds fair.” the Vizier nodded while being observed by his guards. The advisors that now also followed his orders didn't dare to go against his wish. They were already threatened by the younger brother, for sure they didn't want to think they were risking their position with the eldest, who was way more likely to condemn someone without a fair judgment, as he was currently doing.

“Come with me.” Pharaoh nodded as he walked towards where they kept the slave.

Leonellus was no longer crying or whimpering, he was simply very still on the ground. The cats fell asleep close to him, wanting to be with him until the very end. As the door opened, he looked at their feet before he closed his eyes again, no longer caring what could happen to him. Life ended in the very same moment they took his beloved away from him. He held the scarab around his neck to keep thinking about him and all the good moments they had. There weren't all that many, but those were his only treasure.

“I know more about your people than you think.” Kahmunrah's lisp was now more noticeable than ever. Leonellus didn't want to listen to his voice. It _repulsed_ him. “I know about infamia[1]. Your testomy, _as a slave_ , would only mean something after hours and hours of torture. Anything you might want to say is a waste of effort.” And that kept anyone from wanting to listen to whatever Leonellus had to say. If no one would listen to him back home, why would they?

Leonellus was not even trying to talk, so that little speech was useless, just a reminder that he was not a free man and that, therefore, he was worth nothing to any of them. Those who wanted to believe that he killed Ahkmenrah, had to be blind. Not only he lacked the strength to stab someone so brutally, but he was still unable to move his arm properly due to his harmed shoulder. But, again, his voice and his innocence were worth even less than he did. Kahmunrah was now Pharaoh and Leonellus couldn't win, so he only tilted his head to the side, brushing the tip of his nose against Niveus' head. At this point, he could only pray to be reunited with Ahkmenrah in that beautiful land with no masters and where the harvest would never end. And for the Gods to strike Kahmunrah dead. To curse him with the most terrible fate they could come up with.

“You are going to die.” And that didn't obtain any reaction from the slave. “But you'll be allowed to see the Sun for the last time.” That was going to be a public execution, a humilliation and an insult his brother's memory and making him look like a guillible man. Like he could have brought them damnation with his naivety. “You should be _satisfied_.”

“I live the night that never ends.” Leonellus finally spoke. Even his voice sounded defeated. What could he do, all alone, in a strange land? Only wait. Wait to see Ahkmenrah's smile, until then... He held the scarab a little tighter. _Give me strength_. “I have no hope; I lost my Sun.”

Kawab blinked and remembered Pharaoh's words when he claimed that he no longer wished to be alive if his wife was not there with him. To think that the love between the two boys was pure only made his heart heavier and heavier. Now it must be a cold stone, hardly beating in his chest.

They got him off the floor and forced him to stand up. The cats didn't move, still sleeping. He smiled briefly. They tried their best; they deserved to rest. Leonellus looked at Kawab as they tied his wrists together, like he was nothing but a criminal. The slave wished he had been more suspicious. Grow wary of the older man and tell Ahkmenrah to not trust him so blindly. To die with one last taste of frustration for not being able to see his real intentions was unable to stomach. The Vizier looked away, still silent. Leonellus only started to walk when he was pushed and forced to do so. He stepped out of the palace: barefoot and covered in blood.

All those who got to witness Kahmunrah being named as their new Pharaoh stayed there to see the beastly slave. The one that brought them so much misery by killing the one that should have ruled them. The one they loved and adored, for he was good without a reason. And because he was so kind to a stranger, he was killed like he was just a common man. As soon as they saw him, with the evidence of the crime all over his pale skin and his clothes, they thought that they wouldn't worship Sekhmet for years to come. That she only allowed him in their land to kill the one that was gentle like the Sun and just as necessary. A gift sent by Set, the God of Chaos, and accepted by the Lady of Terror.

This was absolutely different from when he saw them when Ahkmenrah demanded that it had to be Apis the one that would have to take Leonellus to Sekhmet's temple. They didn't look curious or happy. Pharaoh was no longer there to protect him because they believed it was him who killed him. He was an _enemy_. For that reason, they yelled and screamed at him; they insulted him and hoped he would have a terrible death. Leonellus accepted the vitriol. The rage and frustration that came with losing someone who was just so good before their proper time. He felt it too. The pain came when some of them, those who couldn't control their anger and wanted him to suffer, grabbed stones from the ground and threw them at him. The guards only protected him with their shields so he wouldn't be killed before his time. It was Pharaoh's wish how he would die and therefore that would have to be respected. Leonellus wanted to cry again because now he will no longer be the one that was loved by Ahkmenrah, but the one that betrayed him.

When they arrived to the river, he was forced to keep walking. The fresh water soothed his burning and aching feet. It was almost comforting. He remembered how Ahkmenrah told him that Anukis would probably the one to greet him to their land. That she would bathe him in the Nile to welcome him. Funny how that would become the farewell. They kept walking deeper into the river and the water reached his waist. Then he was turned around; both guards had a hand on each of his shoulders. Then Leonellus waited with no intention to fight for his life.

“No more tears, slave?” Kahmunrah asked from the riverbank. Leonellus blinked calmly. “No? Not even while knowing that those that drown will never get to be judged by Osiris?” he wished for him to feel devastation and helplessness before death. Leonellus never did anything to him, but Kahmunrah was not blessed with a merciful heart. No harm was ever spared with him. “You'll never see my brother again.” And when he obtained a nervous look from the young boy, he smiled. Leonellus looked at Kawab, miserably trying to figure out if he was lying. When the Vizier sighed and turned around, everything was lost. Then, Leonellus began to struggle to release himself. He had to be with him in death. They belonged together. They _had_ to be together.

“No.” he gasped. “No, you can't do that.” How could he be allowed to win through and through? “No, please!” One of the guards squeezed his harmed shoulder viciously, making him whimper.

Kahmunrah hummed and raised his chin with complete victory. No man should ever feel that powerful, he won't show any compassion for his people. With a simple nod he gave the order of his execution.

The guards pushed him under the water, suffocating his voice. Leonellus couldn't even think about the memory of being strangled and how horrifying it felt to be suffocated to death. Now, during this second time, there wasn't anyone on his side that could stop this unfair judgment.

It didn't take long and it wasn't especially complicated. Leonellus stood no chance against two guards that were twice his weight and the water that kept slipping inside of his mouth and nose, suffocating his lungs. They barely had to put all that much effort or wait for too long. When the body of the slave stopped moving and kicking, they held him under the water for a few minutes more, to make sure he wasn't not pretending and had to chance to survive. They released him and cleaned their hands, since the blood tinted the water with red. The corpse of the slave slowly floated away, following the course of the Nile.

A boy that was born by a river and died in another.

*** * ***

When Kahmunrah _avenged_ his brother, everybody wanted to keep praising him. That first act as a ruler changed people's minds and their opinion about him. He never received such love and acceptation and for that simple reason, he decided to postpone his evil plans regarding his brother's corpse. Kawab could see he enjoyed the look of admiration in his children's eyes and that he wanted to look _magnificent_ in front of his family.

It was important to send the body away for a while, so Kahmunrah wouldn't have the chance to find it. He visited the embalmers that were still working on the body. They had to take the body away before the Sun would set, just in case if the new Pharaoh wanted to have the certainty that Ahkmenrah's corpse was still his to mutilate.

“You must hide the body in his father's tomb until we will have the time to take him to Saqqara.” he told Priest Didia behind closed doors and with a low voice. The man nodded, turning around to resume his task but Kawab stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I need you to do something for me.” The embalmers didn't need any help. After being told new orders, they would get the body on the ship. And after that, they could only wait. “I need you to find the slave's body.” Only he would be allowed to touch him, considering the way he was killed. “Take the men you trust the most with you but don't come back without it.”

The priest blinked at him and before he nodded.

Kawab rubbed his mouth as the other man walked away. He was well aware that nothing he could do would balance the murder of Pharaoh and the execution of the slave. But, perhaps, his spirit pushed him to do something good after witnessing how Leonellus begged and pleaded to not being taken away that final chance to be brought back to Ahkmenrah. His spirit asked him for those boys to be able to reunite after death and spend their eternal lives in Aaru, where no one would hurt them. It would be a personal satisfaction, even if Anubis would sentence him for having a heavy heart. The gate that was hiding in Saqqara could only open once, but it didn't say anything about how many sarcophagus they could push past the threshold.

Priest Didia came back at night, hours after the ship that would take Ahkmenrah to the Valley of the Kings already sailed. He spoke to his ear and told him that they found the body almost as a miracle, when the Sun was setting, with the very last rays of light. Anukis picked him up and gently deposited him on the riverbank, so they would see him, still with his wrists tied and the scarab around his neck, paler than ever.

“Does he have any belongings we should bury him with?” he asked.

The slave had no possessions and Kawab ordered that, along with the tablet and the clay figurine found in a small chest, the poems Ahkmenrah wrote to his beloved slave should be taken with the body of the deceased Pharaoh. Then, he thought about the sandals that were still in the chambers of Pharaoh. “Yes.”

After saying that, Kawab marched towards the chambers he should have never intruded and took the discarded sandals over the ground. The bed was still dirty with blood. Kawab walked out rather quickly, ignoring the little oil lamp that used to simbolize so much to the slave and remembered that they left the cats locked inside of the little room before executing the Roman. When he opened the door, he found out that the cats were still in the very same position as they were when they dragged Leonellus out of the palace. He crouched and touched Ater, feeling the body of the feline a little cold and rigid. Then he did the same with the other two, finding out that they died as soon as the one they were supposed to protect was taken away from them. They did well, it was him who was the one to blame. He craddled their three little bodies in his arms and took them to the embalmers, so they could mummify them along with the body of the slave.

*** * ***

The following morning, both bodies were in their respective tombs, awaiting to be reunited in Aaru. The slave guarded the gate towards the eternal life and Pharaoh's had the key to enter. Kawab didn't get any sleep that night, but it was a little consequence for all the harm he caused. He wasn't scared, either, when he saw Kahmunrah screaming his name, as he probably found out that his brother's corpse was no longer in the palace. Yesterday was a day for celebration and an unfair judgement; today was the very first day of his reign and it looked like it would continue yet with another death. The guards followed after him and Kawab knew that his life finally came to an end. He didn't try to run or felt worried about anything. He made Priest Didia promise that he would continue with their plan no matter what. As soon as Kahnmunrah would stop trying to find his brother's body, it would be taken to Saqqara.

“Where is it?” Kahmunrah hissed and grabbed a fistful of his tunic, pulling him forward. Kawab still kept himself quiet. “I know it was you.” No one would have dared to go against his wish, not now when he could replace so many that were in a position of power.

“I don't know what you are talking about, Kahmunrah.” the Vizier replied, looking at him in the eye.

“Don't play games with me. Not when I have your life on my hands.”

Hands stained by blood, and in a way, so were his. Kawab couldn't continue living his life like nothing happened. He betrayed the boy he was supposed to look after and by doing so, he betrayed himself. There was no reason for him to continue being the man he became and that despised. “So be it.”

“You'll look like a traitor to all Egypt.” That was yet another of Kahmunrah's favourite games: public humilliations.

“I am.” Kawab interrupted him, without fear. “I say, loud and clear, that I was part of the conspiracy against Pharaoh.” And by saying that in front of the guards, he accepted his responsibility and therefore, the fact that he would be executed right away. There wouldn't be a chance for Kahmunrah to torture him until he would confess where Ahkmernah's body was. The man was so blinded by the rage towards his deceased father that he would never think about trying to look in his tomb.

Kahmunrah pushed him away and tilted his head up, rabid. “Seize him.” And that following morning, Kawab was sentenced to death and executed publicly as the one that allowed the tragedy. And after him, came another Vizier. This one far more ruthless and more similar to Kahmunrah's way of ruling. People became quiet and obeyed orders in fear they would suffer the punishment for going against their wish.

Many were casted out and sent away from the palace. Anyone who ever upset or objected with Pharaoh and among them, there was Priest Didia. The man promised to do anything to stay and his begging only entertained Kahmunrah but didn't change his mind. When he was sent to the Place of Truth, Priest Hanbar and Priest Jabari came back, to undo everything that was ever done by Ahkmenrah. So nothing he ever did or anyone he ever trusted was left in the palace, with any kind of power to attempt to accomplish any of his plans. His greatness and his memory would fade away and no one would remember or even think about him.

Away from Men-Nefer, reclused and powerless, Priest Didia could no longer keep the promise he once made to the deceased Pharaoh and Kawab; he had no means and no allies to take the body from the tomb to Saqqara. And for that same reason, he wrote the instructions for those who, in the future, would have the chance to make things right and allow the lovers to be together past the gate towards eternal life.

*** * ***

Ahkmenrah didn't understand what was going on.

He drifted off while waiting for Leonellus and then... This started happening. He whimpered as he twisted, trying to release his arms and pant for some air. Was this a joke? A punishment? What did he ever do to deserve this? He barely hard room to move or even fold his legs, unable to push the heavy lid off him. The wrappings around his face covered his mouth and his nose, suffocating him and just barely letting him breathe. Enough to stay alive for a couple of hours and then, he would feel his body falling apart: his flesh turning rigid, his organs becoming smaller and his brain melting. The pain he was being put through was unbearable and impossible to describe. It was like being set on flames and then decomposing.

He screamed. He screamed as loud as his lugs allowed him to. He convulsed and struggled to set himself free, calling Leonellus' and Kawab's names, desperately needing their help. Who would ever do that to him? And why? Why did the Gods let him go through this? Over and over again, with no end in sight? Just the same agony and tragedy that would keep repeating. Where was Leonellus? Why wasn't he trying to save him? Why didn't he release him from this excruciating misery? This curse was so hard for him to bear. Too merciless for him to endure.

Ahkmenrah cried, begged and prayed. And yet, it didn't seem like anyone could hear him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 In ancient Roman culture, infamia (in-, "not," and fama, "reputation") was a loss of legal or social standing. As a technical term of Roman law, infamia was an official exclusion from the legal protections enjoyed by a Roman citizen, as imposed by a censor or praetor. More generally, especially during the Republic and Principate, infamia was informal damage to one's esteem or reputation. A person who suffered infamia was an infamis (plural infames). Infamia was an "inescapable consequence" for certain professionals, including prostitutes and pimps, entertainers such as actors and dancers, and gladiators. Infames could not, for instance, provide testimony in a court of law. They were liable to corporal punishment, which was usually reserved for slaves. Source: Wikipedia


End file.
